Real Smile
by Lady Indecisive
Summary: From hiding her true gender to nightmares,there is much more than she ever lets on to anyone... Allen Walker can't continue living in a web of deception like that forever. Komui snoops. Rabi watches. Rinali knows. And Kanda is simply clueless as ever. KxA
1. Dream

_Disclaimer: D. Gray man is not mine. The wonderful manga-ka, Hoshino Katsura owns it. _

_Author's note: This is my first fic, so please don't flame. I accept constructive criticism, so feel free to say any suggestions. By the way, this fic was inspired by the fact that Hoshino sensei said that Allen was drawn after a previous character of hers, a female one in the manga "Zone."  
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1. Dream

Bedroom, 5:20 AM

_ She couldn't remember much of anything prior to being taken in by Mana; humans by nature tended to forget painful things, to avoid going insane, and for her that was true. Her young mind had unconsciously shut out horrific memories and emotions of the bygone, replacing them with the happy, dulled blankness of a forgotten past, to ease the life of a frightened and lonely child with no fault but that which connected at her shoulder and was embedded with a cross. The only reminder she had was that defective arm that had been the cause of all her troubles, from the time she was cast out because of it. That treacherous arm was her greatest strength, and her greatest weakness-there, her innocence was located. _

_ But what is frightens her is not what she had forgotten, but had remembered. In dreams it would haunt her, through nights of cold sweat, twisted blankets and strangled screams of emotional pain. These nights would only end in muffled sobs as the sun rises in the east. Over and over it haunts her, the dreams. Inextricable. Unexplainable. Inescapable. _

_ It_ had moved of its own accord, with her feeble will unable to stop it, her young fragile body frozen in shock and terror of the implications of what she would do, but could not stop. But there was no forgetting how that clawed, scaly red hand had broken free of her knitted glove and ripped through Mana.

Mana, the Akuma.

Mana, her father.

"_You made me into an Akuma…_" The rage was not hidden in his cracked voice then, as it had screamed loud and terrifying for her to hear. But it simply masked a deeper emotion, one that surpassed it in strength and cut her heart even more deeply, by far. Disappointment.

And then suddenly, a blinding light, cutting with all the force, the pain, and the intensity of a lightning bolt through her left eye, cursing her. The angst ensues, the guilt she feels as the tears flow down her pale cheeks, not so much from the pain of the eye as that which she feels for he whom she had wronged. He whom cursed her and opened up a terrifying new world of things that no one else could see.

And then, after that, the dream ends, leaving her panting and aching within, salty moistness on her pillow and lingering upon her face. But nobody needs to know of her pain. To everyone else, she is happy, carefree, and the brightness within the Black Church. She looks at the clock on the windowsill which her bed faces and blanches, for the workday is about to begin, and it is almost time to put her naïve, artificial façade back on over still hurting emotional wounds. Not wanting to put up with angry remarks about tardiness from a certain cold youth with whom she would be working with, the ivory-haired girl that was known as the cursed boy-exorcist Allen Walker goes into the adjoining bathroom to prepare for a whole new day.

_A church somewhere in England, 6:00 AM_

Silence usually was a golden thing, given to the invisible beauty of nothingness; in its simplicity, it quelled turmoiling emotions and appropriately created lulls in which one may digest the recently past happenings or a particular piece of information in conversations-something especially useful when talking to Komui. But it also made voids, within which one would beg to disappear in, so awkward it would have been, this accursedly uneasy quietness.

It had been ominous, how deadened the old abandoned church had been from the moment the three exorcists had entered. As Kanda had remarked in his usual harsh tone, it was simply a disgrace to religion. Their footsteps prompted soft creaks of protest from the weak and rotting wood floors, and rats scurried away from their human presence for the safeties of their little nests in the arches supporting the roof. The church itself gave off a forbidding air, even in the stages of its degeneration, being very old, dating back to the Byzantine era, even, as the motifs and tiles on the wall clearly showed. There was a chill in the very air; it crept under Allen's long black cloak and made the fine light hairs on her skin stand up in anticipation of the fight that would no doubt come.

She was right. It did, and the akuma sprang out of the rubble that was the pitiful remains of the church benches and attacked, in a shower of stars.

The bindings upon her growing breasts hurt her as she nimbly leapt out of the way; keeping up a male appearance was quite a pain, literally. A split second later, several large star-shaped bullets cut into where she had been standing before, ripping through the floor and sending up huge splinters. Allen muttered softly under her breath and ignored the sharp pain, preferring to keep her eyes where they were needed in the fight. To her left, the agile Rinali executed a perfect spinning kick onto an Akuma's head, knocking it clean off with the innocence-propelled force of her dark boots. She flashed Allen a smile, one reserved especially for her alone.

"One down. Allen-kun, how's it going?"

The said young exorcist flicked her a thumbs up, grinning cockily in reassurance. "I took care of two. They're only level 1 akuma anyhow, wonder why all three of us were needed here. It isn't as if there's that much to exterminate, sinc-"

It was too soon for victory to be proclaimed, it seemed, since more, this time larger akuma erupted out of the rubble that covered the floor of the mansion they were in. Allen eyed them nervously, taking in their round, distended shapes and projecting guns with chagrin. "Heh, still level one?" She offered lamely to Rinali, who shrugged, and dove into the fray.

Allen advanced, and extended her arm. "Poor souls." She whispered, her quiet voice drowned out by the sounds of battle, and the rapid firing of stars. "I shall put you out of your misery."

"There's three more, Allen, hurry!"

"CROSS-GRAVE!" she shouted, extending her enlargened, scaly red hand. Simultaneously, God's wrath struck down their unnatural enemies mercilessly, shocks of bright white light forming the angular shapes of long, large crosses darting down from the sky, cleaving through the akuma- shell, weaponry, bound soul and all. The crosses impaled the akuma, driving them through the weakened wood floor with a smashing force that flung her against the wall.

Allen watched in horror, in a half daze, as the gaping hole in the floor grew larger, ripping through the boards and throwing them up in huge rotting chunks. The technique had done much more damage to the church than she had anticipated, and by the looks of it, was more than capable of bringing it down to its bare foundation.

"Allen!" Rinali's shriek was lost to the sound of the falling masonry of the ceiling as it too gave way to the lack of support from the destroyed pillars and arches, and the young white-haired exorcist whipped her head around to see her friend disappear under a large shower of ceiling beams and dust.

"Dammit, Rinali!" Allen painfully crawled to her feet, only to feel the steely cold muzzle of a gun pressed hard to the back of her neck, at the nape where her hairline ended. "Oops."

Needless to say, while she was one to be focused on protecting others, Allen was not the most capable of people when it came to watching her back, due to an almost complete lack of concern for her own safety. One could call it selflessness, and others could have argued that it was stupidity, as a dead person was a person rendered entirely unable to protect anyone else. Either way, Allen did not care, for she was caught at gunpoint, at point-blank range. Her arm lay useless in all its dangerous innocence-invoked form by her side, unable to wreak havoc for the fear of being shot. Grimacing, she braced herself for the incoming bullet that would shatter her skull, knowing that of all things, there was no ally to depend on to rescue her.

The irony was completely laughable to her. The thought was jeering and taunting within the depths of her mind, and Allen was reminded of how she was merely an insignificant person in the world, for all she had tried to do, to redeem herself for making an akuma. In the end, it all boiled down to redemption, for upon her was the burden of the cross to put the akuma to their ease. Not easily replaceable, but still someone whom little would weep for. Just as she had tried to save as much as she could, there was however none to save her. Absolutely no one to save her. How could she save others, if she could not even save herself? Again, she was a small child in front of a gravestone, crying for her daddy to come and pick her up.

It was only the sound of a loud, squelching splitting and the sudden, sharp metallic humming of a katana that brought her to her senses, and surprisingly the gun spastically jerked away from her head, even as the akuma fell through the floor. Wide-eyed, Allen barely comprehended herself being tugged away from the gaping hole in the tiles by a rough hold on her upper arm.

"Too late for him. And just what were you doing with your guard down like that!" the black-haired exorcist whom had killed the akuma roared angrily in her face, a throbbing vein on his temple.

"Ehh…" And Allen was unable to think of an excuse, under the smoldering glare. Still stunned by her near brush with death, and the feeling of being helplessly abandoned and useless. The worst was the coldness that had for an instant frozen her in a sad state of despair, at the knowledge that few actually cared for her. Unloved, hated even, by this cold, foul-mouthed exorcist, by Mana, by herself-the lattermost for her complete weakness. Allen offered up a sheepish smile, a meaningless one that her mouth automatically curved into, after many years of practice. "I'm sorry. Really."

Sheathing mugen, Kanda simply scowled at her apology, and turned away, his lips settling into a firm tight line. His piercing eyes swept over the destruction that cross-grave, accompanied with the attacks of akuma, had done to the chapel. "Everything about you is annoying, beansprout. Where's Rinali?"

The younger exorcist's face immediately shifted to a horrified expression, as she recalled the said girl's cry for her to help her. "The ceiling fell on her!"


	2. Failure

_Disclaimer: D. Gray man is not mine. It belongs to Hoshino Katsura. _  
Author's note: Another quick update, and all in the same day. Were the characters OOC? Sorry if they were but this is my first fic.

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2. Failure

A church somewhere in England, 9:07 AM

It was a sad day indeed when there was fighting in a church, the area being deemed holy ground, not to be defiled by violence of any sort. Despite the fact that they had been given the mission by the clergy, they had transgressed on just about every unwritten law and custom that stated respect for holy clergy property. Instead of just fighting akuma as they were supposed to, they, or rather Allen, had impulsively and wrongly destructed half the venerable building in a single attack, ending countless years of tradition and destroying valuable and ancient architecture.

Kanda was tugging the broken beams off the buried exorcist, as Allen cleared away all rubble with use of her left hand. Nearly mad with anxiety, she finally pulled off a splintered plank to reveal the bruised, battered, and unconscious Rinali Lee.

"Rinali!" She propped the girl up, and felt for a pulse. Alive and warm, it throbbed gently under the gentle touch of her fingers, bringing a great sense of relief. "Thank God."

"Either way, Komui's going to be pissed." Kanda remarked off-handedly, his tone rough and condescending. The mention of Rinali's overprotective brother sent chills down Allen's back, reminding her painfully of his surgeries on her arm. Their boss was a good man at heart, however very concerned about his little sister's welfare-overly so, and to the extent even joining the priesthood for her.

"Well at least she's still in one piece." She said grimly, trying to lift her comrade. It did not help matters that Rinali had been growing plenty as of late, and was now somewhat taller-not substantially, Allen insisted-than her. Moreover, Allen was still aching from being thrown against the wall.

"Move it, beansprout, I'll do it. Such a weakling."

Kanda easily slung the senseless exorcist over his shoulder in a single, fluid motion that she hopelessly admired. No matter how much she trained up, it was impossible for Allen to develop such toned muscles, and strength, due to the lack of testosterone and muscle mass. Such a slender and small physique as hers was uncommon in fifteen year olds like her, but she was able to shrug off questions with the excuse that she had not yet hit puberty, being a very late developer. The excuse was lame, with little substance behind it, but that had been the only logical explanation that had come to mind.

As they began moving out, she caught sight of a small stone statue of the Virgin Mary, toppled sadly on the crushed altar sitting in front of the debris-strewn church. Tearing off a small corner of her cloak, Allen gently wiped off the powdered dust clinging to her face and replaced her in her former position, a lone tiny figure eternally watching over the once-holy hall. Cocking her head to one side, the exorcist stared. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but she believed that the figurine was actually smiling at her. A soft, tender smile, carved in stone, that divulged many secrets, and probed into those of others, all the while retaining its own with a steady mystery that she had never seen before. Mary was a strong woman; her trials had been many and long, from the birth of Christ to bearing the pain when silently watching Him suffered upon the cross. How painful must have been, how searing the agony to simply watch, helpless, as her Son was crucified. And yet, what could possibly have been done? What was her one, small terrified voice, lost in the silence of others whom, like her, were paralyzed?

Again, she was reminded of how she had been pitifully unable to stop herself from destroying Mana, and even now, incapable of shielding Rinali. Her own inadequacy left her disgusted. An explosive fury, directed to her own self built up in the very core of her being as she fisted her red hand in the folds of her cloak, the government-issued fabric coarse under her touch.

But in looking upon the heavenly virgin, even in her miserable recalling of her failures, Allen was not so much as prompted about her past failures as she was about her own feminity. She longed for the day when she would be able to breathe, easily and without the constraints of bandages taping her chest down. When she would not have to mask herself with oily makeup that gave her a sense of artificial security. It was not much longer, she knew, until her growing body would flourish and womanly curves, inconvenient as they were, would be more obvious than she would be able to hide. She cursed herself within, for the sudden, somewhat foreign sensations of regret and wistful longing that suddenly consumed her. Hormones, blasted hormones softening her up-perhaps she was more of a girl than she had thought she had been. Allen scowled, and followed the taller black-haired exorcist out of the church, with the knowledge that the days of masquerading as a boy would soon draw to an end. The frightening, and yet so liberating thought lurked in the back of her mind, but it was soon replaced with a sense of dread: even sooner, she would have to face Komui.

Komui's office was for the most part messy-and yet that was an understatement, as the great man himself could be barely seen from behind the even greater stack of papers that River had brought in. The majority of them were for him to pillow his head on as he dozed off on the job, and the remainder was to salivate over as he did so. The two Lee siblings were completely different, opposites in gender and personality; Komui was known for slacking off, whereas his sister was diligent. However, for once, Komui was not behaving like his usual lazy-ass self, lounging in his chair. The change was startling; half-lidded eyes droopy with sleep immediately bulged out of his head, and he knocked his beloved coffee cup over upon mention of his beloved Rinali getting injured.

"Rinaliiii!" The chief of the science department spared no drama when it came to expressing his anguish, turning the waterworks on full blast with vehemence. "What happened to youuu!"

After being assured by the standby medics of her safety and that the wounds would not scar his little sister's pretty skin, Komui immediately turned from his emotional tirade of tears to a blazing fury upon the two sweatdropping exorcists. "You let her get hurt!" He accused.

"We were ambushed by more akuma than you told us there were." Kanda retorted, his dark eyes flickering lazily in the soft candlelight that lit up the otherwise dark office, which was shielded from the muted light of dusk by blinds. His gaze traveled over to Rinali, who was sleeping in a little cot near Komui's desk. "There were eight or nine, not just three."

Komui's face softened considerably and a soft sigh escaped from his mouth, as he sipped at a new cup of coffee. 'Just as I thought."

"Just as you thought and you still sent us in like that!" Allen yelped incredulously, in disbelief. "Rinali nearly got killed and that's what y-"

"Don't act if it wasn't partly your fault, beansprout." Kanda snapped at her. "You were the one who let loose that cross-grave of yours, and brought down half the church, which led to the ceiling falling down."

Shamed into silence, a heavy sense of sorrow again waited down her heart. But Allen felt the need to reinstate her optimistic and determined attitude that had endeared herself to so many people. "Hey, I did bring down the akuma too." She protested gamely, glaring at the older man with a slight pout. "And where were _you_ when the other akuma reinforcements came?"

"Watching your ass, beansprout. Geez, you're annoying."

"Well at least I got rid of _most_ of them, for the score, with cross-grave."

"Want to dispute that, beansprout?" A snarl accompanied the metallic sound of steel being drawn as Kanda hefted his katana. "Annoying people like you should just keep their mouths shut before someone has a mind to cut out their tongues."

"It's not as if I did anything wrong, really, I was just-"

"_Urusai_. Cursed little-"

"Hey watch it!"

"Whatever. If you hadn't been so late in getting up, the akuma wouldn't have time to evolve and then Ri-"

"Would you just hear me out and stop interrupting me?" Allen, abruptly standing up, practically yelled in frustration, brow furrowed.

Kanda, however, begged to differ. "It was you who interrupted me first."

Sensing a brewing fight due to the tension in the air, which was filled with murderous intent, Komui saw fit to break them up so as to ensure his living until Rinali got married-which would be _never_, not if Komui had a say in it. Being caught in a fight between two of the most skilled exorcists, however, was not prudent because of reasons like self-preservation, Rinali-preservation, and keeping his office in one piece. Komui looked nervously at Rinali's cot, which was dangerously close to the two boys.

"Now boys…let's not fight…"

Under conditions like his, however, he would have done much better to assure himself of maintaining his hearing until old age by keeping some distance between his own person and the said pair of irate exorcists. Both immediately launched into a loud argument with each other that was intense in amplitude and incoherent with both expressing their dual opposing viewpoints simultaneously. Komui had little choice but to shake his head and sigh. "Bickering like a couple, really." He grumbled as he slowly sipped his coffee. "Exactly like a couple." The notion entertained him to no end.


	3. Ice Cubes

_Disclaimer: D. Gray Man does not belong to me. It belongs to Hoshino Katsura. _

Author's Note: I'm sorry if this chapter seems sloppy, but I was writing it in a hurry since my mom wanted me to clean my room. I've been sort of busy lately, but I'll try to make time to write some more. As always, reviews with constructive criticism are very much welcome. As for all the wonderful people who did review my previous chapters, thank you very much, I really appreciate your efforts to offer your viewpoints.

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**Also, I'd like to clarify this; in this fanfiction, Allen is a girl masquerading as a boy in secret (for reasons that I may reveal later), and nobody else knows about it. Some reviews made me question whether or not I had made the point clear enough. I read over part of my fic and I think I could have done a little more explaining. Someone tell me if I didn't-I'll immediately try to make it clearer it in the fic. So sorry if anyone misunderstood. **

3. Ice Cubes

Komui's Office, 7:55 PM

Kanda was pissed at a certain white-haired boy. The argument had ended in a stalemate, much to Komui's obvious relief, with Allen stalking off to the cafeteria to soothe his temper in platefuls of food, leaving _him_ in the office with the sighing and yawning scientist. Kanda glowered after the younger exorcist, and made a little growling sound of frustration from the back of his throat, before he took his leave as well. And loudly did he do so, slamming the door behind him so hard one hinge broke.

"Cursed little brat." He murmured harshly under his breath. "Cursed."

The training area in the forest near the headquarters was not far off, and masses of personnel, whether seeker, exorcist, or scientist parted for him as he stomped towards it, a dangerous glint in his eye. When the cold, rough exorcist was in a bad mood, people tended to stay away from him, for fear of losing some appendage to his katana or a tongue-lashing that would prove as lethal as mugen's first illusion. However, the one exception to this unwritten but universally comprehended rule was the boisterous, fearless bookman-in-training, otherwise known as Rabi. Against all common sense, the red-haired exorcist was all for pranking his unknowing friend, while the latter was wrapped up in his cold fury.

Kanda was in no mood for jokes, and the hot, sultry late-summer twilight merely worsened his temper as he sharpened mugen with a stone. Every stroke he made on the long, silver blade was in preparation for killing the cause of his anger: the ever infuriating Allen Walker. Rules being rules, he could not possibly be permitted to murder the boy, but one -even he, the human ice cube of the black clergy- could always dream.

"Boo." The familiar jaunty voice sounded low and breathless with excitement besides his ear, before Kanda felt the unpleasant tingling sensation of something cold and wet sliding down his back. Whoever accosted him had obviously taken the liberty of slipping an ice cube down his shirt. It was also fairly obvious that whoever had done that did NOT want to live, either, having roused the already boiling, infamous temper of the sword-wielding exorcist.

"…Rabi." Kanda grunted a greeting at said prankster, who neatly dodged the halfhearted swipe of the katana's blade. He, for the sake of face, ignored how uncomfortable his back currently was, with a rapidly melting ice-cube sitting snugly against his skin. All his hard training to disregard the bodily senses had paid off in full, for he was able to retain his dignity by sitting gracefully upon a large rock and trying hard not to squirm.

"Yo." Leaning casually against his large hammer, Rabi was clutching a large bowl of ice-cubes, obviously palmed from the kitchens, complete with a set of tongs and a towel. "Y'know, it really does feel good to have ice on your skin, doesn't it, since it's really hot."

Although his inflated macho ego would never allow him to admit it, Kanda was forced to agree that it was indeed pleasant, once the initial shock was over. The contrast of the freezing numbness upon his sweaty and heated back felt wonderful, despite his reluctance to enjoy such a primitive physical sensation as that.

"I can put more down your shirt if you want." Rabi said, holding up the bowl of now half-melted blocks for him to see, and setting it on the grassy floor. "Ice cubes for the human ice cube, isn't that funny." He popped one into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. His expression shifted considerably, to one of concern. "Anyways…what I wanted to know was what happened between you and the kid."

"Beansprout? There isn't much to say." Kanda said dismissively, refusing to use Allen's real name. He spared a look up from his katana, to dart a sharp glare at Rabi. "The usual, I guess. And I suppose he went off to stuff his face again?"

"Perhaps." Rabi muttered elusively, tossing a chunk of ice up and catching it neatly in his mouth. "Lil' brat went tearing out of Komui's office, looking…" Rabi paused, and scratched his head with a frown, and Kanda recognized the expression of when the bookman was trying to phrase into words something he couldn't quite understand. "…I dunno," Rabi said quietly, "But he seemed sorta…distressed, if you can call it that. I mean, he's usually so _spunky_."

"Distressed?" The other inquired, lifting a slender eyebrow. "Che."

"Yeah. Really sad, honestly, seeing him like that. Whatever it is you said or did to him, it obviously struck a chord."

" Don't you look at me like that. How would I know!" Kanda snarled irritably, seeing his friend's questioning glance. "It sure isn't _my_ fault."

"Isn't that what we all say?" the redhead replied sagely, allowing the words to hang in the following silence like a raincloud in the clear sky.

"Hmph. Shut up."

Rabi did so, and so well that Kanda began to feel scrutinized and uneasy under the unwavering, silent gaze. "Now what!"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Kanda, aggravated with his friend's blockheaded attitude, stood and began a practice form with his katana. With each deep controlled breath and perfectly timed stance and slice, he gave himself body and soul over to the simplicity of the moves, allowing his harassed mind to find peace in the swift moves. The target of the kata was offensive, a one-sided practice against an opponent; Each cut was meant to cleave the aforementioned white-haired exorcist, yet somehow, by the time he finished the kata, it was impossible for him for him to continue hating Allen and his stupid, constantly present smile like that. Allen smiled too much, and seeing him being so disgustingly cheerful and stubbornly optimistic aroused Kanda's anger. However, the boy had always unknowingly commanded a subtle presence of charisma that few were able to resist, and whereas Kanda had always been revolted with his softness of heart, he was skillful and thus still one to respect. Che. Respect. If the little cursed brat wanted respect he damn well better earn it.

Seeing as sundown was nearly over and the soft velveteen night was settling in for several hours of slumber, the eighteen-year old sheathed mugen and prepared to leave the forest clearing. Behind him, a bowl of ice cubes continued melting in the heat, where Rabi had left them.

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Thanks for reading. Reviews are welcome. Please do remember to tell me if this fic needs to be improved, or if I need to tell a bit more on Allen's disguising as a boy.


	4. Seeds of Suspicion

_Disclaimer: D. Gray-Man is not mine, it belongs to Hoshino Katsura. _

Author's note: Sorry if this story is too slow-moving, I'd like to add more character depth and expand on their relationships with each other, like the Rinali/Allen friendship, the Kanda/Rabi dynamics since I feel that there's a lot unsaid about it, and of course more on Komui. Some Hebraska-Allen interaction, too, if I can work it in. And, the main plot doesn't quite start til chapter 6 or 7. For the most part the plot's all planned out, I just have to write it..I've already started writing chapter 7, since I went on a writing fit. I just have to edit and reread those chapters, and then I'll post. For those asking why Allen's masquerading as a boy...se.cr.et. Well at least until halfways through the story. If it actually gets that far, that is. Well, enough of my irrevalent, idiotic excuses...

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4. Seeds of Suspicion ♥

"…_Death is what we specialize in; we are exorcists after all, and our job is to exterminate. In the face of death there is nothing to do but smile. And smile I must-who else will? Even in the Dark Order, we do need light, too. Like plants need it. And animals need it. To every other person, I must show a happy face, since that's all I can do. It is much easier to bear it with a grin, isn't it? No matter how much it hurts inside. It doesn't matter, since no one else will see it but you. Better only one suffers than many. Even if it costs me my sanity, I can't show that my sorrows are overwhelming me-since that would mean I would be giving in to the darkness, wouldn't it. I hate losing. So it's for the good of everyone. They never need to know. Know just how hard it is for me to remain optimistic, stupid, most of all MALE Allen Walker. As long as I smile, everything will be ok. I hope…."_

-Walker, Allen; excerpt from her diary, entitled "The Diary of a Boy who is a Girl." August 3.

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Cafeteria, 9:30 PM

Since the innocence-wielding arm was quite a strain on her body, in addition to an already speedy metabolism, Allen ate more than the usual human would eat. In one sitting, she was more than capable of finishing four full courses with dessert and side dishes to boot. Feeling down in the spirits and worse from the morning's occurrences, the cafeteria was exactly what she needed, a place where she could wallow in gluttony to suppress her dark mood. To her, food was not just necessary for producing energy, but was also a much-needed distraction from everyday difficulties. Moreover, it tasted good too. It was a sad day when she was unable to consume roughly half her body mass in worth of nutrients.

The line was thankfully not very long, and the people ahead of her only ordered very little, only two hero sandwiches. A slight fluttering above her caught her attention, as Timcanpi joined her in waiting, hovering lightly in the air. "Hey…where were you, Tim? I haven't seen you for days." Allen greeted Cross's little golem. It simply butted its tiny head against the pads of her fingers when she tried to touch it.

As it was night, and she was too tired out to chew much, Allen decided to settle for a light meal of Yorkshire pudding and a large salad doused liberally in French dressing and a pan of lasagna and rice congee and clam chowder and two bowls of ramen, and lastly her favorite dango.

High chief Jerry had been more than happy to make the food for her, seeing that she 'was such a pretty kid,' as he insisted on cooing at the top of his lungs, much to her embarrassment, for everyone in the spacious cafeteria to hear. However, that embarrassment was lessened since the cafeteria was nearly empty, with only a few clutches of people eating here and there, mostly off-duty finders or personnel belonging to the various departments that made up the Black Order. There were not a lot of people, which was unusual giving that the night shift was working late this night, but with the recent flood of akuma attacks creating shortages of staff, she decided that most would have been sent out into the field.

While the chef was cooking, she had more than enough time to think morosely about the morning mission at the church. Kanda had been more than right, and while she was less than inclined to acknowledge it, especially to his face, she had to agree, through reluctantly, that Kanda had been right. It had been her fault, and _if only_ she had been more precise with the cross-grave, Rinali would not have been injured. If only, if only, the mantra chanted over and over in her head, as if letting go of it would be to admit defeat to her depression. Thoughts like that were things that she preferred not dwelling over, but they always made their unwanted appearances, no matter how strong her will was. She was such a failure, she mentally berated herself. _A failure, a failure, a failure, a failure_…

Hearing strange voices in one's head was a sign of insanity, that much she was sure of. Allen retrieved her food, and the cook waved her quietly mumbled gratitude away with a blown kiss most unbefitting for a person of his size and gender.

Nearly staggering under the weight of her meal, Allen took her tray to her usual corner facing a window, to eat in peace. Usually Rinali would have been sitting with her at mealtimes; one bench was much too big for one person. Guiltily, Allen looked at the empty seat next to hers and resolved to bring a bowl of clam chowder up to her later, since sickbay-standard food was hardly edible.

"Hey Beansprout-chan, what's up?"

"Rabi!" Allen vacantly smiled at the redhead, forgetting for a moment all about Rinali, cross-grave, Kanda, and going insane. "So you're finally back. Where was it again-from Italy?"

Rabi swung himself into Rinali's unoccupied seat on the bench and began helping himself to a stick of dango. "Nah. I was in Germany. Berlin, to be exact." He said between loud chews. "Crow-chan was there too, and he says hi."

"Crowley?" Allen commented in surprise. "He was there too?"

"Came back with me last night too, Crow-chan did. The two of us had to bring something back for Komui. Lessee…who else was there?... Miranda, Ol' Grandpa Bookman, and one of the generals-the female one, forgot her name."

"You forget everything, Rabi." Allen said bluntly, spearing a leaf of lettuce and nibbling on it. "Why can't it have been Kanda who was sent there instead of you? We would have gotten along better much more than he and I do. Him and me…I'd hate to say it but, well, it's like we're at each other's throats all the time. Wonder how Rinali manages to stand us both."

Rabi licked the stick and his lips free of the sweet dango stickiness, staring at her with lazy eyes. "Well, Kanda was left here for a reason, 'cause Komui wanted you two to work together, and y'know, sorta sort out past differences. I mean, you two really started off on the wrong footing with the Matel case and the misunderstanding that you were on the Earl's side."

"Screw that."

"I've never heard you so foulmouthed, Beansprout." Rabi returned, not without good humor. "Kanda's gotta be rubbing off on you, eh?"

"Whatever you say." Allen, seeing that it would be useless to contest the point, returned to her salad. "Anyway…why were there so many exorcists concentrated in Berlin? Huge akuma massacre or something?"

Rabi's face darkened considerably, as he shifted his hold on his weapon of choice, the hammer that never left his side. He frowned, the dimples at the sides of his firm, strong mouth creasing down unhappily. Allen watched him patiently, knowing that phrasing things had never been his strong point, and especially in a comprehensive way that spared the listener details that they didn't need to know. A well-meant lie or a complete refusal to talk was coming, she knew, and she wondered whether it was because of his own judgment or that of clergy regulations. As she had suspected, it was the latter.

"Sorry, brat, but I'm not allowed to say. Don't give me that look- Komui's orders, actually. It's mostly classified stuff. He'll get around to telling you, I guess." Rabi shook his head ruefully, snapping the dango stick in two. "The only thing I can really tell you is that we've gotten wind of the earl. The Noah family's begun their move, apparently."

"It's ok…Komui doesn't really tell us much anyway. Not even today, and it got his sister hurt." Allen's head drooped slightly in disappointment, in that she had not been chosen to go to the front line of battle to aid the other exorcists in the universal fight against the millennium earl. She wanted, no, _needed_ to be there, to fulfill the promises she had made. A promise to her father, to keep on walking on. To her friends, to fight besides them. And to the world, to save it. Last of all, a promise to herself, that she would fight the good fight with all she was worth, to free deserving souls from their bondage in metal skeletons under the Earl's control and set them free. All of these oaths combined to form the soul of her existence, the true meaning and value of her life; without it, she would be naught but an empty, lonely shell devoid of direction or goal in life. It was her only path to keep on walking on. It was the only way she could possibly feel _alive_.

"Rabi…?" she whispered, in deadly earnestness. "What…what is it like?"

"Huh?" Rabi stared, his second dango stick dropping from his mouth as he strained to peer at her over the not substantially reduced pile of food on the table. "What is it like to what?"

"To feel as if you actually live. What is it like, to feel as if you have a purpose? That you are actually alive and this is not just all a nightmare in some warped alternative reality?" The slight tremble, almost a whimper, originated unexpectedly from the back of her throat, forcing her struggle to control her voice. It had risen from a soft low boyishly rough tone to one characteristic of a hysterical young girl's tantrum. She knew it would not go unnoticed by the ever perceptive bookman in training, but simply did not care at the moment. "To feel like it's worth it to keep on breathing. Fighting. Believing. Walking on until you drop dead. Pretending that you don't give a _shit_ about all the crap that's happening to you and go on smiling, keep on-ouch! Tim, what was that for!"

Under the table, Timcanpi bit her hard on the knee, warningly reminding her not to do and say anything that she would doubtlessly regret later. Cross Marian had obviously been thinking ahead when he had sent the little golem to accompany on her travels, since Allen required a little reminder now and then of keeping up her masquerade as a boy. Being of the forgetful sort, Allen sometimes tended to forget that boys were not quite as expressive as the fairer sex in their emotions.

"Wow." Rabi, ignoring her cry of pain, forgot completely about picking up his dango lying sticky and uneaten on the tablecloth in favor of picking his jaw up off the ground. "That's just… well…I don't know…Shit, Allen, I don't know just what you've been smoking lately, but are you alright?"

"Yes. No. Maybe so. Yeah, I guess." Allen looked up from inspecting the two bleeding little fang marks on her knee, and decided not to say any more or suffer Timcanpi's wrath. Or tetanus or some disease born by golem-saliva —she wasn't too sure just what Timcanpi's little unbrushed teeth had bitten before. She rolled back down her pants leg and grimaced slightly, seeing that her sudden outburst had shocked her normally talkative friend speechless, to the point where he had actually called her by her given name. "Forget it. It was nothing."

Rabi just continued gaping at her, mouth opening and closing wordlessly, and Allen realized that she had made a mistake, simply exploding like that as if she did not have a guise and persona to maintain for the sake of safety. Did she really sound so much like a girl? Mental was more like it, she decided with a roll of the eyes.

"I said it's ok. Just forget it." Allen stood and loaded onto a metal tray her untouched chowder, still steaming hot from Jerry's stove. "I'll take this to Rinali. She'd definitely be hungry and hospital food isn't exactly the greatest stuff. I doubt Komui would cook for her, either."

She made sure to allow Rabi to see her grin. Shy, almost, and slightly embarrassed as would befit her after such a tirade. Instantly, she saw that he was relieved by it, his frown almost dissipating at the same time. It was better for everyone to continue believing in her fake, meaninglessly optimistic smile, since they would be horrified at what lay underneath, hidden emotions making themselves manifest in nightmares or the occasional, rare flare-up.

Her life, simply, was one entire web of lies, trapping her within. She was Lady Deception, hidden behind a smiling boy's face. A fake smile was all she could muster, to prevent herself from falling deeper into the dark mire that was her life. The cheerful exterior was only a mask; the curving, smiling lips had no meaning, and underneath them she was nothing. Nothing was exactly what it seems to be, and she was a prime example of that. They knew nothing. Nothing. Not her gender, not much of her past, and nothing of what she had been through. Or did they?-

However, as she walked away, with Timcanpi zipping along at her side, Allen felt Rabi's eyes lingering longer on her back than they usually and should have. She had planted the seeds of suspicion, and now must reap what she had sown.

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Please do review.♥ After all, criticism is essential to improving writing.


	5. Pretty Please?

_Disclaimer: D. Gray Man is not mine, it belongs to Hoshino Katsura. _

Author's Note: Yet another chapter. Hopefully it is not ooc and will serve to keep you interested in this story. Needless to say...Allen/Rinali interaction is hard. I found this awkward and unsatisfying, so sorry if you did too. Also: I know this is labeled as a  
Kanda x Allen romance, and so I'm pretty sure everyone's wondering where the love is. As it is, Kanda is a sorta cold guy, and he doesn't know Allen's a girl. Yet, that is. Their relationship is complex and turbulent, so I think I'll take the time to set it up well, before getting into anything lovey-dovey.

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5. Pretty Please? ♥

Komui's office again, 10:00 PM

"….and I'm really really really sorry for not coming to help you in time you see I was sort of tied up with an akuma having me at gunpoint and the floor was falling through-" Breathless, and still worried over her encounter with Rabi, Allen paused to digest the totally incoherent apology she had just spewed out to the black-haired Chinese girl lying on the cot next to her chair. 'So please forgive me. Pretty please with a cherry on top?" She made wet puppy eyes at her friend, hoping to appease the well-deserved wrath about to come.

It never did.

Rinali smiled gently at her. "Don't worry, Allen. It's not as if it was your fault." She said, rolling her eyes. Then she laughed full out, leaving Allen bewildered.

"What!"

"Nothing…it's just that I've never heard a boy say 'pretty please' like you did" the exorcist explained, trying to hide her amusement to no avail.

In all her seven or eight years of cross-dressing, she would have thought that she would have been familiar enough with male patterns of speech and actions. Thus, the frustration that she felt upon at this little slip of tongue took all her years of self-training to avoid screaming at the top of her lungs and bashing her head incessantly against the sharp corners of Komui's desk. Allen gulped, trying to hide a rising sense of panic that had not died down after she openly displayed all the pent-up angst in front of Rabi, and acted like a fool; first him and now Rinali…

"Sorry-does that bother you?"

"_No_!" Rinali exclaimed, too quickly and too loudly, which was unusual for her normal soft-spoken speech. "I mean, no." A slight hint of crimson stained her otherwise pale cheeks, leaving the other exorcist to stare at her in concern. "It's very, very cute, that's all."

"Unmanly cute." Allen grumbled, inwardly chafing.

"It's not like that…" Rinali said, with a little sigh that clearly told Allen that she was clearly missing the point.

There was an awkward pause between them, and while Allen was uneasy with the way Rinali was behaving, she wondered why such silence and idleness was so abhorred by all. She found it comforting, an entire new world in just being there, listening to the quiet while making no sound of her own. It was a period of self-discovery and reflection. Without being distracted by an action, one tended to become much more aware of one's surroundings, noticing such minor, taken for granted presences, such as the sound of soft breathing, and how the candlelight played gently across the surface of the bamboo blinds hanging over the window to mask the oncoming night.

This reverie was broken by the sound of Rinali's quiet voice, sounding frail and surprisingly timid in the large room, which was empty except for the two of them, Komui having departed to bed early after a day of migraines, paperwork, and slacking off. "Allen-kun….was it you who carried me back here to headquarters?"

Allen, struck from her thoughts, looked quizzically at her. "Me…?" she said, not without a little groan. "Uh-uh. It was Kanda."

"Oh."

Allen could not help but notice the slight tinge of disappointment that colored her voice. "Um Rinali-is there something wrong?" she asked in concern, almost frustrated at this new turn of events in a day's work. "You've been acting slightly…well…really…um…weird, if so to say. First you think I'm cute and the next moment you're sighing and blushing."

Perhaps she had been too honestly straightforward, as she sometimes was wont to be sometimes when closing in on a point in a conversation, because it caused Rinali to flush even deeper, and hang her head, biting at her lip. "Come on Rinali." She wheedled unsuccessfully. "We're friends, you can tell me."

"Tell you…" Rinali lifted her head and to Allen's surprise, unshed tears, glimmering and catching the dim light. "Why should I?"

"Why shouldn't you?" Allen returned, hurt deeply, "We're friends."

"Yes, we're _friends_," Rinali said fiercely. "If that is so, why?"

"Why what?" More and more bemused, Allen rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. It would no doubt last for more than an hour, perhaps even overnight, she thought wearily. The throbbing dull pain already felt like a boulder on her tender head. She could already visualize herself squashed beneath it, rendered so miserable she would be unable to argue with Rinali and God forbid if she ever encountered him, Kanda or Rabi.

"Don't 'what' me! You know." Rinali continued tearfully. "How can I possibly confide in you if you don't open up to me in the first place?"

Allen furrowed her brow; well-meant had she been, to hide whatever she truly felt, but never had she thought that that would be unappreciated by her friend. "Open up?" she asked dumbly, trying to buy time for an excuse or response that wouldn't make the older girl cry. "I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"That's right, you don't." The other girl agreed, sniffing. "You don't. But I do, Allen." Rinali's large dark eyes, pleading and sorrowful, locked onto Allen's own and held them in a long gaze that bespoke much more, more than the former would ever dare to say to the white-haired exorcist. "I care what happens to you, Allen. You've always been one to withhold secrets. But you should have told me."

"Told you?...Told you what?..." Allen repeated slowly. And muttered softly in confusion. And she thought, a light of horrified understanding starting to dawn in her hurting, currently headache-impaired little brain. And then she knew. "Oh…shit…"

The secret was out, and she knew that Rinali knew.

She usually didn't curse, but as it was she had already made today an exception, what with her earlier conversation with Rabi. Said masquerading girl stiffened in her chair, rigid against the hard back of the seat. Her eyes widened slightly, and she stared at her friend with apprehension, surprise, and fear, almost. _Rinali had found out that she was a girl._ After all her pains to conceal everything, to hide her true gender with what years had proved to be a nearly flawless disguise-at the very last, it had all been in vain, penetrated right through by the shrewd eyes of one insightful, emotional Rinali Lee.

"How-" She rasped, her voice dry and sticking to the roof of her mouth. "How did you find out?" She could feel a numb, sick feeling of anxiety in center of her stomach, rising to clench around her chest like a vise. If Rinali knew that she was a girl, Komui knew. If Komui knew…then everyone, down to the lowliest lab assistant, was totally informed. Including the ever irritating, rude Kanda whom she had so hard tried to avoid/tolerate/gain the respect of. The last insult was that she had been everyone's fool; like the pathetic, pitying people that they were, they had turned the other cheek and allowed her to continue acting like a dimwit. She hated unneeded pathos like that, was disgusted at the self-importance others had in pitying whomever they believed to be less fortunate.

Just how many were laughing at her now?

"It wasn't obvious, Allen." Rinali said softly, breaking her out of her depressive thoughts. "It's just…you're so mysterious. Somewhat reclusive, even."

"Hey. I talk. Eat with everyone else. And socialize."

"But you've never really let anyone get close to you, right?" the other girl persisted, shaking her head vigorously.

And not for the first time, Allen had to admit to herself that the pretty Asian exorcist was omniscient when it came to such matters of great delicacy, with a frightening instinctive sixth sense to whatever was bothering someone. At the very least she approached it with enough tact, Allen decided grimly.

"But you don't have to bear the burden all by yourself." Rinali continued, lowering her head slightly, biting at her lip then looking at her again, with burning eyes that for some reason seemed to penetrate through her heart and soul. "You could have told me about it, you know. I wouldn't laugh; with a past like yours, it's perfectly normal to have nightmares."

"Huh…n-nightmares?" Allen choked out, now thoroughly confused on what Rinali was truly talking about. She did have horrible dreams, but they had nothing to do with her being a girl. The random change in topic startled her that she was momentarily reduced to a wide-eyed guppy out of water, eyes bulging and mouth opening and closing soundlessly. "What on earth…?"

"Come now, Allen-kun. You're playing stupid again-didn't you just admit to it?"

"Admit to what?" Allen, dizzy and disoriented from the sudden swing in direction the conversation was taking, could only 'play stupid.' "Rinali, I don't get it. We're talking in circles here. What exactly is it that I'm not telling you and that you know?"

"The nightmares, baka!" Rinali, in frustration, burst into tears. Hot, wet drops trickled out of her dark eyes and made the onslaught even more ferocious to Allen, adding a raw emotional feel to the conversation. "I go by your room every night and you're crying, screaming, terrorized in your sleep by something I can't see nor understand! About something like... Mana…akuma…arm….Why didn't you tell me you suffer in silence, how you're still hurting!"

Even though she knew Rinali was partly right, Allen could not help but feel relieved, knowing that her identity was safe-though only for how much longer she did not know. "Was I really that loud?" she half-deadpanned, keeping the solemn, tortured look that would have been appropriate for such a significant situation upon her face, keeping all else masked.

"Loud or not, I'd still be worried anyway!"

Allen fought the urge to laugh. Her face muscles strained with the tightness of keeping the smile concealed. "If that's all, Rinali, I guess I'd be going now." She said, moving off to the door before her friend could protest. She looked over her shoulder with a nervous giggle, hoping that Rinali would let her go. "Rest up, you'll need it. God knows when your oniisan would give us another mission."

"Wait-Allen!" Rinali looked helplessly after the other, presumably male exorcist as he left with a wave. She sighed, and pressed a hand to her flushed cheeks, wondering why the blood had so quickly and furiously rushed there, and why she was trembling so. "I don't know anything about you." She whimpered softly, "Nothing, nothing of your past. What happened to your family. Who this Mana is. Why you are alone. I don't even know when your birthday is. Most of all, I want to know why you cry. It hurts me, to hear you sob at night, more than you ever think. S-so, why won't you open up to me?"

She did not understand, why desperation and sorrow seemed to get the better of her, why the tears had flowed, the stomach had fluttered, and the heart seemed to leap into the mouth, preventing her from giving him the coherent tongue-lashing that she had rehearsed for over an hour. All thoughts of screaming at the exorcist for being so secretive and selfless had completely vanished, absorbed and dispelled by his wondrous eyes the same brilliant, crystalline color of the sky against which the Black Order tower stood in dark, gloomy contrast.

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Ugh. So much for my horrible attempt at Rinali-Allen friendship...and maybe hints for something more on Rinali's side. As always, reviews are very much welcome.


	6. Temper, Cramps, and Depression

Disclaimer: D. Gray-Man is not mine, it belongs to Hoshino Katsura.

Author's note: Again, a quickly typed update. I haven't had the time to proofread this however, as I just had to be dragged all the way upstate New York on a family outing to visit a cousin. And thanks to Kuraiko-kun, Ihire AKA Lady Phoenix, Blueskyfish, Angelbott, LadyRed06, and Nobody, for faithfully reviewing.

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6. Temper and Cramps, and Depression ♥

Komui's Office, 2:12 AM

The rain was little relief to them in the summer; it merely dampened the air, making it humidly uncomfortable, and was not of a sufficient amount to actually cool them down. Even worsening their mood was the fact that Komui, with the help of Rinali who had gotten better, had dragged them all out of bed at two in the morning for an impromptu meeting that they had not been duly informed of beforehand.

This, of course, was bad for Allen since she had an extensive toiletry to attend to every day before showing up for work. It included darkening and thickening her eyebrows and the smoothing of brightener over the shadowed insomniac circles around her eyes so as to prevent any inquiries about yet another sleepless night. It also included applying some more makeup around her face to deemphasize the femininity of her soft features, most prominently her high, rounded cheekbones and chin, and also to give the impression that she had a stronger jawline than she had. Binding her tender chest down with bandages also was a necessity; abet a painful and difficult one. As it was, humans were only blessed with two hands, and even after so many years of experience masquerading as a boy, Allen still believed that a third or even a fourth was in order to complete the tiresome task. On the top of her Christmas/Birthday wish list was a third or even fourth akuma-destroying arm, preferably, that could elongate at will and actually be able to tie a neat, not bulky and conspicuous knot in the back where she couldn't otherwise reach. A knot that she didn't have to constantly worry about getting undone.

All in all, it was a most troublesome, time-consuming process that Allen had to go through every day, and getting up at such an early time detracted from the usual result. Of course, Rabi noticed the difference. He, Rinali, and Komui were the only ones whom looked and felt awake, as Kanda and Crowley were slumped in half-unconscious piles of misery on the couch, along with a pissed-off, mood-changing Allen.

"Rise and shine, beansprout-chan! You look…"

"Mussed-up. I _know_." The white-haired exorcist forced a grin at the older boy, from under messy, swept bangs that covered the cursed eye. She yawned, and tried to stretch her neck muscles, which were cramped from sleep and aching from the uncomfortable position she had been in, with her head twisted just so to bury itself into her pillow. "Ahhh….so tired…"

She had never felt worse in her life; Allen was concerned with her appearance more for the sake of safety rather than beauty, but having smeared eye brightener irritated her to no end. Pain racked her slender form, her migraine from the night before still lingering like a heavy brick in her head. Moreover, the onset of her monthly had occurred unexpected and unwanted last night, and she had been more than irked to spend two hours hand-scrubbing the blood out of the clean sheets. Clean, fresh white sheets that had just been laundered by the ever-helpful Rinali the day before. Not just did it dirty the sheets, the sudden rush of hormones had also left her skin sensitive and especially sore under the chafing rough friction of the bandages binding her chest. Allen winced as her abdomen throbbed, and she felt sick to her stomach.

"What's wrong? You look in pain…" Rinali said in concern, passing her a cup of tea. "Here-drink this."

"Ah, no…it's just that menstrual cramps are as evil as the earl himself." She mumbled lowly under her breath when Rinali's back was turned, ignoring the offered warm liquid placed in her hands.

"Eh? What was that?" The pretty older girl cheerfully asked, pouring Rabi a cup and more for her brother whom was currently shuffling through the towering pile of papers on his desk.

"Nothing, nothing…" How could someone be so _happy_ in the morning? Especially in comparison with the night before. Allen sighed inwardly, glad that Rinali was treating her normally again.

While she knew drinking it would help, she wasn't particularly fond of the more bitter Chinese-style wu-long tea that the Li siblings had an affinity for. Being British, she simply had to flood her own with massive amounts of sugar and cream. Komui was quite the opposite of her tastes, the tea purist that he was, and would never permit it in his presence.

But seeing that Rinali's lips were quickly turning down in a frown, Allen decided to make an exception. She hid her grimace at the too bitter taste for lack of any sweetener. Allen downed it in one suffering gulp and covered the teacup's rim before Rinali could pounce and refill it.

"That was good but I don't want any more." The white-haired exorcist lied blandly, getting up from the couch where she was slumped and stretching her arms again.

"_Oi_. Quit it. You'll take someone's head off." A sleepy, irritated voice growled menacingly from adjacent to her. "Cursed little brat."

Allen stopped flailing her arms around in her stretching, and stared at Kanda, who was sitting in the couch next to her. "Hey, I'm just trying to wake up here. And I didn't notice you in the first place, although that would have been near impossible due to your huge ego, which is sorta hard to miss."

A dark eyebrow twitched, as the offended Japanese exorcist slowly got up, hand hovering dangerously near mugen's hilt. "What. Did. You. Just. Say?"

Allen, her temper flaring, had had enough. She felt worse than s---, and the pompous, chauvinistic, dimwitted oaf of a samurai-wannabe was not listening to her seriously. Thus, as Timcanpi was not around to bite her, she let out her frustration without exercising any restraint. "I_ said_ that you were an egoistic asshole." She hissed, quite unlike the bouncy, happy-go-lucky Allen which façade she presented to the judgmental world. "Didn't you just hear me say it? If you listened maybe you would. Can't you for once stop picking on me? I'm cursed, I know, but at least be civil for once if we're going to work together, you-"

Suddenly conscious of shocked gazes on her, and of the fact that she was practically screaming at the older exorcist, Allen stopped, clapping a hand over her mouth in stunned realization. Horrified would be an understatement, to describe what she was feeling at the moment.

"Um…I don't think Kanda meant it literally." Rabi's voice had never sounded so small and the humor in it spread so thinly.

Allen gulped. An apology would not be sufficient to cover the situation, not without an explanation for the tirade-which she could never give, not without exposing her deception. At the moment, flight and locking herself up in her room seemed the best option, cowardly and stupid as she thought it was. But on the other hand, she was cowardly and stupid.

"I'm sorry." She said curtly, accompanied with a low bow. The formality, no doubt, startled everyone else. The Exorcists' Tower had never been a place for such decorum and procedure, not when the greater task of exterminating akuma and stopping the Earl loomed before them. There was so little time, and little of it could afford to be spent on being proper. Her white hair lashed and stung her cheeks when she whipped her head back up to meet Kanda's startled dark eyes. "Excuse me."

And then Allen forced herself to calmly walk out, to cling onto whatever was left of her dignity in her mind. It was only after she had closed the office door behind her that she ran, nearly bowling over River who was approaching the office in her haste to leave. In her wake she left a room full of stunned co-workers, a startled River Wenham, and River's armfuls of neatly arranged papers scattered all over the hallway.

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Ooh, poor Allen. I can totally symphathize. I myself felt that this ending was too rushed, and stupid. Oh well, I hope I can make up for it with a longer chapter next time. As usual, please review. Hooray for 500+ hits...and 13 reviews.


	7. The Earl's Involvement

Disclaimer: D. Gray-man isn't mine, it belongs to Hoshino Katsura.

Author's Note: Yay, I finally get around to explaining the earl's role in this fic. Honestly, I was sort of starting to get worried, even, since I hadn't introduced an antagonist yet.

7. The Earl's Involvement ♥

Komui's Office, 2:15 AM

The normally docile little kitten had suddenly extended its surprisingly sharp claws from velvet-soft footpads that looked genuinely harmless, Komui thought shrewdly, with a frown. Allen…was an enigma, and the unexpected outburst had offered him a little insight into the cracks of the carefully constructed mask that the youngster had maintained for God knows how long. Indeed. Just how many secrets did those huge, innocently round eyes hold within their baby-blue depths?

Rabi stared long and hard at the door as it softly closed after the white-haired exorcist. The second outburst in two days-Allen rarely lost control, except in battle when provoked to protect. There was something seriously wrong with the kid. Either that, or the kiddo harbored one of the most serious cases of bipolar disorder he'd ever seen in his life. Or depression. Adolescent-onset disorders, perhaps? Rabi did not possess the credentials nor learning of a physician/psychologist, but he knew enough to realize, mostly from the little talk he had yesterday with said boy, that something was amiss. Although he saw no need to voice his concerns to his not doubt already concerned colleagues. Even Komui had been diverted from his searching for the document buried in the pile of rubbish he called a desk. The man was frowning, worried, perhaps.

It was not at all unusual for a fifteen-year old boy of Allen's age to at times flare up, no matter how mature he was-and the beansprout was, for the most part, a fairly responsible and independent teen, while slightly impulsive and easily-provoked at times. As now was a perfect example of. Although he had to admit for once Kanda was at fault too, as usual, for riling the kid and calling him a cursed brat. Although that had never bothered Allen much before, the eighteen-year old thought grimly.

"Probably just pissy at the time-I mean, it's_ two_. In the morning. " Rabi said, trying to relieve the tension that lingered after the youngest exorcist's departure. That did nothing to dissipate Rinali's expression of sorrow, nor did it erase Kanda's expression of obvious shock. The optimistic little Brit had exploded so suddenly, that his primitive, battle-geared egoistic mind was quite unable to take the strain, and thus had shut itself off. The Japanese exorcist hissed in irritation, glowering at anyone and everyone whom even so much glanced his way.

"Um…maybe he had a bad hair day? He really did look screwed, you gotta admit that much." Rabi knew that he was babbling, sprouting nonsensical rubbish that no-one, not even himself, comprehended in the least. "Although I don't think Allen really likes grooming…maybe he ran out of his favorite toothpaste and couldn't brush his teeth?"

"Shut up, Rabi." Kanda shot him a narrowed, slightly feline gaze laced with venom. "We've had enough of the brat for a day."

"I know! Or maybe he got his period or something, that's why he's pissed! I mean, who wouldn't be if they were-"

"I think we get the point, Rabi-kun." Even the ever sweet and helpful Rinali, from what he heard of the grinding of her teeth, was ready to bash his head in with her dark boots. And Crow-chan, shy and insecure as he was, looked at him quizzically, his response being the least extreme however, as everyone else looked ready to murder Rabi.

"Ano…" the vampire said tentatively, "Rabi-san, isn't Allen-san a boy? So he c-can't-can't--" Crowley blushed slightly, the color showing bright upon his pale skin the pasty color of death.

"Of course he is," Kanda remarked savagely, his tone arch, wearing once again his haughty expression "of course, or otherwise that'll make him a _girl_. So soft-hearted and weak-he might as well be one. Although he isn't, though-"

"What, Yuu-chan, you've already _checked_?" Rabi interrupted mockingly. "I know he's really cute and all, but didn't know you liked _boys_. Although come to think of it, Allen would be really quite the looker if he was actually a girl, with such doe eyes and all…."

Everyone else in the vicinity facefaulted. Mugen's sharp hum sounded, ready to cleave the now panicking bookman in two. "Hey. Don't take it seriously, it was only a joke." Rabi protested defensively. "Only a j-o-k-e."

However, his countenance sobered into a serious, thin-lipped frown that few ever saw on him, as cheerful and upbeat as he was. It was that of deep wisdom and insight, rare in those his age. He was, after all, a bookman in training. "Give the kid a break, Kanda." He said gravely. "No matter what your past grievances-I know he messed up the mission with the doll of Matel in the beginning, which started the two of you out on a bad foot, but still…He's only a little kid. We're his senpais; we should look out for him as it is. And he's only been here for a few months, too."

"It doesn't matter. " The black-haired exorcist replied indifferently. "He wouldn't last long anyhow. Foolish little rookie, wanting to protect everything, and so spontaneous and easily riled—weak people like that aren't meant to be exorcists."

"I don't think so." Rabi's voice, cold and iced over with disdain, "That was what others thought of us at first, right? Think back, Kanda Yuu. Once, not so long ago, we were like him once. Boys confused with the world. We weren't expected to last too long too were we?"

"…"

"Have you forgotten, Kanda?" Rabi said quietly. "Also, no offense meant, but it is sort of hard to get along with you."

"…"

"…"

The slamming of the teapot down on what little free space there was on Komui's table was what diverted their attentions, at least momentarily from the staring competition that was taking place between the two eighteen-year olds. Expensive Ming-dynasty blue china met the unforgiving hard surface of oak, and shattered with the impact, dousing the floor in amber tea that immediately soaked into the piles of documents lying around in messy, disorganized stacks. Rinali's hands trembled from the force; without a word, she rushed out of the room, most certainly in pursuit of her white-haired friend.

Before she exited, she stopped and stared straight at Kanda, her eyes hard and unforgiving, alight with defiance and strength. "And for your information, Kanda-san, women are not all 'softhearted and weak.'" She whispered. "So please don't use being a female as an insult."

And then she left, and all the tension of the room simply heightened with her departure, as if a cold breath of wind had just entered the room in the summer heat and stole all the warmth. A second later, there was a loud crash, mild cursing, and Rinali's quick shouted apology. Then, her quick running footsteps left the human range of hearing. And River Wenham, who had just finished picking up what Allen had made him drop, was rendered heads over heels in paperwork again as Rinali sped past him.

"Gah…now you've made her upset." Rabi, frustrated, flung himself upon the lumpy couch with a heavy moan. "Why do you have to be so damn sexist in the first place, anyway?"

"Che, women. It was you who did by mentioning Allen. She seems to have a thing for the brat."

Komui took off his glasses, and rubbed gently at the bridge of his nose. It was a pity that the teapot was smashed, since he would have been partial to a cup of tea at that very moment to sooth his frazzled nerves. He lazily wondered why he was working with four teenage exorcists, excluding Crowley, two of whom were still very much minors and the older ones not much better in mental maturity. It was for the innocence. All for the innocence.

He groaned at the looming task on briefing them in a not-very-brief explanation of the upcoming mission. Seated safely away from the quarrelling males in a plush armchair, Crowley gave him a sympathetic look that was barely seen over the giant stack of paperwork.

"Well…" the scientist said resignedly, "Now for your mission. Since Rinali is not involved in this due to her previous injury, it would be the rest of you male exorcists to go, including Allen."

"Wait, why are four exorcists needed?" Kanda interjected, lifting an eyebrow. "That's a pretty big party isn't it? And besides, it's my second mission in two days. "

"The risks are going to be fairly great, and we're already badly understaffed as it is, since the mortality rate for black clergy members has been extremely high in the last few days. 400 exorcists and finders dead, all over the world. If that wasn't enough, our finder squads are insufficient support for our exorcists." Komui explained heavily, "And surely you've all noticed the increase in akuma attacks; they seem to be traveling in larger packs. As it is, we need to send more exorcists to compensate for the attacks."

"It's bad everywhere." Rabi muttered. "In Germany, we were attacked everyday, nearly every hour. We even had to make shifts, right Crowley?"

The vampire nodded dejectedly. Competent and powerful as he was when motivated by the taste of akuma blood and the remembrance of his once-beloved Eliade for whom he fought for, he still possessed limits to his great strength. "Every day. And they were in huge hordes, too."

"The earl's making the next move; he's already sent the Noah family out." Komui explained, taking out a folder from an overstuffed drawer bulging with paper and examining its contents. "But there's an even greater problem-not only are the akuma attacking more people, there's been a significant increase in the amount of akuma themselves, nevermind the attacks. In other words, the earl is speeding up production."

The man adjusted his beret, and bent over the folder, shuffling through until he took out a long list. "the cry of a broken heart draws the earl to a person," he said grimly, "and there has been much sorrow and suffering in many countries. In Ireland-yet another famine, of potatoes, their chief stock. A civil war has broken out in the Balkans yet again, what with nationalistic Bosnian Serbs and all. Germany is quarreling with France over a trade dispute, in the Rhineland. The stock market in Britain recently took a nosedive; since Britain has the most sophisticated machinery, they're now producing way too much stuff that no one can afford. The corrupt lords in the government there are somewhat greedy; they're taxing higher to make up for what they need to support their lavish lifestyles. Inflation in America-Americans do love their luxury goods. Disputes have risen in the caste system of India, leading to hates crimes and such. Asia's been pretty bad too…Japan's caught in a trade crisis; some conflict's been stirred up and it's now under an embargo-and they have to import lots too, given their lack of good farmland. It and China are hit hard-there's been a disease that targets their rice crops, so there's a shortage of it."

"So, you're saying that the earl's behind all this crap, right?" Rabi asked thoughtfully. "To amp up the making of akuma, he first creates the horrible conditions-"

"-which then leads to people suffering, dying, and the earl would then be able to make more akuma from those suffering survivors crying for their beloved ones." Kanda caught on quickly, once Rabi had first brought up the idea. His right hand clenched around the hilt of mugen, the muscles tense and the knuckles white with rage, at the news of trouble in his own homeland, Japan.

"Exactly." Komui nodded in agreement. "Usually, the earl would have stuck to getting innocence, but now he's focused on making more and more akuma, to kill off exorcists so there would be less in his way to getting the innocence-In particular the heart. I wouldn't be surprised if the Noah family was behind some of the government corruptions, high taxes, or even the war. They have a way of infiltrating, they do. The one they called Ticky could change shape, if I'm correct. He has both a 'white' and 'black' persona, if I'm not mistaken. And the so-called diseases attacking the crops in China and Ireland could probably be a mutated or evolved microscopic form of akuma, that could infect vegetation. Or maybe the 'virus' stars that the akuma have, a different sort than what they use in battle. I could be mistaken but I am going to send Rinali off to China or Japan to get a sample of the rice. Miranda is in Ireland today, so she could bring a potato from there back to me when she returns next week."

"Scary…akuma that can eat plants? Say, can they do anything to humans?" Rabi asked with a wry chuckle. "I mean, no offense Crowley, but man-eating plants are scary. I wonder how you and Allen could put up with one. Well Allen did only under threat of death from General Cross, so I guess that doesn't really count."

"Speaking of Allen, I expect either you, or Crowley to tell him of this. You guys' mission is to go to Vienna tonight to back up the team of exorcists there. The akuma attacks in Austria had been centered around there; perhaps the earl means to lay waste to the city, since many famous composers of the time live there. Depriving people of their music fix would lessen their comfort by much, no doubt. Music is the chicken soup for the hungry and lonely soul." Komui held up a map, and pointed at the little red circled dot that was the mentioned city. "Five of the seven exorcists that were sent there have been M.I.A. (missing in action), and since there's already been a lack of exorcists in Eastern Europe there already to help take up the slack, we need to send fresh ones over."

With all necessary and of relevance being said and done, the remaining three male exorcists removed themselves from the room, Rabi bearing an additional folder of information he would feed Allen later with.

_What is it like, to feel as if you have a purpose? That you are actually alive and this is not just all a nightmare in some warped alternative reality? _As he walked down the hallway, Rabi's expression darkened, at the remembrance of the tortured expression of the white-haired exorcist's face in the cafeteria yesterday. It haunted him, frankly, and was offsetting. It was not just the suddenness, nor was it the sudden increase in the volume of Allen's voice, torn by something within that he couldn't find words to express. It was the implicit meaning behind the words that he was startled by; the solemnity of the round pair of beseeching blue eyes staring him down.

At first he had wrote it off as simply Allen's curiosity upon a philosophical note, but the beansprout had never been so morbidly fascinated. Rabi had a feeling there was more the beansprout wanted to say, and would have said had he not suddenly spooked and left. It was the things people never said that haunted him, it had always did. Some things were better left unsaid, but others-the dreadful implications that they hid in their silence needed to be brought to light.

"What's wrong, Rabi-san?" Crowley, sensitive and alert, had caught onto his mood quickly. His honest face showed genuine caring. Rabi grinned at the vampire and gave him a thumbs up.

"All right, Crow-chan. Why don't you go on first, I need to talk to Komui 'bout something. See you later in the cafeteria."

With that, he stalked back to the office, and, without knocking, burst in. Komui was dozing on the desk, a thin trail of saliva trickling from his lower lip. "Hey. Komui. Wake up!" The redhead, his face serious, slammed his bundle of papers down on the desk, effectively startling the genius scientist from his dreams of workless vacation days on a beach in Bermuda. "I have something to tell you."

"That could wait, can't it?" Komui whined, setting his beret straight on his head. "It's just two, why don't you go and get some sleep before nightfall. Unless you're so confident about this mission that-"

"It's about Allen."

The deathly serious tone and the mention of the young exorcist got the Chinese scientist's attention, and his expression shifted from drowsy to alert and unsmiling. And Rabi knew that he was not the only one who had been suspicious and worried. The thought relieved him greatly, and gave him the courage to begin speaking.

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So much dialogue...what a pain to write. As usual, please review.


	8. Hebraska the Shrink: On Secrets

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man, it belongs to Hoshino Katsura.

Author's note: This chapter was a little awkward to write. Sorry for all the people that were looking forward to Komui and Rabi's talk. I haven't finished writing it yet. Just a heads up to those faithfully following this fic: I might have to put it on a short hiatus soon, since my SAT prep courses start in a week or two and I have to go on a trip overseas for a month. But until then I'll try to update as much as possible.

Thanks for 1000+ hits! And of course, the reviews; thank you to those who took the time to do so.

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8. Hebraska the Shrink: On Secrets ♥

The Black Order Tower, 2:25 AM

_"…it's crushing me. Perhaps it's all too much, although such a disguise as a boy is necessary for me. It's so hard, seeing your friends being nice to you-and you think that perhaps it's not really you they're really being nice to. It's who they THINK you are. But the thing is, I've been hiding so much from them. I honestly can't take it anymore. When Rinali was speaking to me the other day, I thought my cover was done for. Her snooping around the dorms could hardly be good, especially at night when I'm sleeping. I'm very big on screaming and talking in my sleep-at least that's what Master Cross often complained when I was living with him. Rinali's such a nice girl though; I hope we can be better friends. Now, if only she wasn't so curious about my past…although you hardly can blame her. "_

-Walker, Allen; excerpt from her diary, entitled "The Diary of a Boy who is a Girl."

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Allen stared at the looming hallways before her, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Having absolutely no sense of direction whatsoever, and lacking a map on the layout of the winding and twisting halls of the tower, she was an expert on getting lost. Disoriented at the numerous possibilities right in front of her of getting even more lost, she looked left, where she had just came from, and saw nothing that she recognized. Right led to a dead end, one which she had already explored enough-or so she thought, but she wasn't sure if it was the same dead end that she had encountered a mere two minutes ago shortly after leaving Komui's office. The trail straight on led to the kitchens, but she was none too sure of that either, and in her situation, making assumptions would mean a nearly 0 possibility that she would get anywhere. 0.026, actually, she thought desperately, making some random, tiny percentage on the spot. There was still, after all, a very, very slim and anorexic possibility that someone would come along and be nice enough to point her out in the direction of the cafeteria. However, the black order had been seriously lacking in manpower lately, as the death toll was getting higher and higher, and more exorcists and finder parties were being sent out.

Backtracking had also failed, as Allen was of a horrifically short term memory when it came to directions. Furthermore, she tended to only gravitate from her room to the cafeteria to Komui's office on a daily basis, and thus did not know how to get anywhere else.

"Waahh…I'm hopelessly lost…" she mewed pitifully, staring forlornly at the rows of doors, all meaninglessly familiar, as most doors in the tower, budget as they were, tended to be of the same size, make, and color.

"Allen-kun? Allen-where are you? Don't hide from me--"

Of all people to find her, Allen did not want it to be Rinali, who would doubtlessly smother her with concern, none of which she was in the mood to take now. However, her desperate predicament was none too good either, and she was extremely hungry. Her stomach rumbled fiercely, reminding her of her obligation to feed it breakfast. Or a snack, given the unholy time. She always had a craving for creamy parfaits, bayou-style spicy crawfish, and oranges whenever she had her monthly.

Torn between food and avoiding Rinali, Allen hesitated. Then took the straight hallway, away from the sound of Rinali's voice. The Doppler effect lessened Rinali's voice, as Allen walked on and on, getting herself even more enmeshed in the inescapable mess of halls that formed the structure of the tower.

"Gah." Allen sniffed. Frustration threatened to overwhelm her, and she already felt unwanted tears of anger prickling at the corner of her eyes. Her behavior before in Komui's office was unacceptable, and her lack of self-control then bothered and exasperated her. Now, being directionally challenged further dragged down her mood.

First one. Then another. And quicker, falling more and more rapidly in succession, tears dropped down her cheeks, like a heavy rainfall, worse than the rainfall that pattered outside on the stone facade of the Tower.

"I'm crying-" Allen whispered in surprise, not wanting to give in, denying what comfort her aching soul needed at the moment. However, it wasn't long until she was reduced to bawling helplessly in a crumpled heap in the middle of the hallway, ashamed of her inability to hold her emotions at bay. Perhaps it was unbalanced hormones. Perhaps it was the pent-up frustration, held at bay for so long. But now, not even shame could make the tears stop flowing.

Hard, jolting sobs shook her slender body under the long exorcist's cape that made her frail shoulders seem much wider than they in actuality were. Heartfelt and piercing to the core, they resounded softly in the empty hallway.

_"Allen Walker, what is wrong? Why are you crying?"_ An almost familiar voice, so soft that it took Allen a while to realize that someone was speaking, was audible in her ears. The warm, smooth tone required no medium to travel through; with horror, she realized that it was in her head. Gah, the first symptom of insanity was already making itself manifest, and she had a mission at night and thus no time to check herself into the mental ward. She visualized the sound in her mind-it was golden, rich to the ears, and most of all, gentle. Sinuous and soft-sinuous like tentacles, slithering softly through the air-

"Hebraska?" she asked aloud, astonished. "Um-is that you?" She hiccupped painfully from crying and stared around expectantly through wet eyes, as if seeing if the large, innocence-holding exorcist would materialize like magic from the cracked, dimly-lit walls.

A chuckle vibrated gently in her head, and Allen sensed amusement emitting from Hebraska's presence. "_Baka exorcist. The door to your right." _

"The one marked with the Z?" Allen asked, feeling extremely baka indeed since to the everyday observer-not that there were any around-she would have looked as if she holding a conversation with herself. The exorcist recognized the area as the secluded section of rooms that Komui had reserved and that Rinali had refused to tell her about when she first was initiated into the order.

_"Yes. Enter."_

Hesitantly, Allen approached said door, eying it dubiously. She wiped her eyes and inspected it. "A-Are you sure? I think it's against the rules and I mean, Komui-"

_"It's fine. He won't know and I won't tell him."_

Blinking away tears, Allen swallowed the lump of dread that had gathered in her throat, hard. But since when had she been one to follow rules? One who disguised as a boy in secret and stole food from the kitchens to hoard as midnight snacks could hardly be a normal, law-abiding person. And midnight snacks had only been a paltry pinch anyhow, not to mention anything of the many bandages she often filched from the hospital wing to bind her chest. Keeping up a male appearance that would fool even the most observative Komui required high maintenance, every day without fail.

Experimentally, she gingerly pushed the door open, alert and ready to spring if Komui had, in a paranoid fit, booby-trapped the door so as to prevent trespassers from entering. As it was, she received no painful electric shock, nor was she snagged in a big net. Having suffered absolutely none of the envisioned penalties for intrusion, Allen mustered the courage to enter.

"Are you sure I won't be punished?" She asked tentatively, in a very small voice, wanting reassurance that she would not die a very painful death if Komui happened upon her in his territory.

Only pealing laughter answered her, as if Hebraska was holding his sides with all the eighty-two or so arms that he possessed on his large body.

"Hey, it's not funny!"

Quivering, huge blue eyes threatened to unleash waterworks as great as Noah's flood in all their unrelieved frustration; Allen seriously wondered if she should have wandered and lost her way down to the training arenas instead to take it all out on a few practice dummies instead.

First one. Then the second. Before a third tear could drop, Hebraska's voice, surprisingly sharp, darted through their mental connection. _"Allen Walker, stop crying and come in. Nothing at all is going to be accomplished if you simply stand out there in the hall. Do you really want Komui to catch you that much?"_

Allen stepped through the doorway, and found nothing but darkness, stretching as far as her vision reached. The door shut softly behind her, without her noticing. Encompassing darkness, an endless void infinitely extended on all sides. Suddenly, a light flickered on, and she saw that she was standing in front of an open elevator, leading down into a deep circular pit. She recognized it after the initial shock of getting her eyes accustomed to the sudden brightness; it was, after all, Hebraska's chamber, where she had be initiated into the Black Order. So happy was she to see something familiar that all doubts about getting caught transgressing in a top-secret facility evaporated from her mind. Stepping cautiously onto the large platform, her stomach heaved up and then settled back down into its proper position as it began descending slowly, down where the large, inhuman exorcist was awaiting her.

Whenever she saw him, she'd always have the impression that she was standing in the presence of something mysterious and powerful-Indeed, Hebraska fit quite nicely in that category, being of an impressive stature and size, not to mention also his capability to pick someone up in his many appendages and easily bashing him/her around. While she had been held by those frightening tentacles before, Hebraska had never done the lattermost to anyone, at least not to her knowledge. But still, the possibility and the merely the fact that he was able to do so was more than enough to keep her on guard.

"Why do you cry, young exorcist?" The sonorous voice, now aloud, inquired gently of her. One long tentacle reached out, nearing her face. Allen nearly flinched, but it wiped away with surprising gentleness the salty residue left on her skin. "What ails you?"

"Life is horrible." Was all the younger exorcist said, and needed to say.

"Life is unfair, but we all live with it." Hebraska returned sagely, tipping up her chin to look at him. "Is there anything particular that worries you? Don't mind Kanda's arrogance and haughtiness. It is, after all, his own way of dealing with things."

"I'm ok with him-it's just my response to his behavior that worries me. Tell me, Hebraska….what do you think about having secrets?"

"Hmmm?" The great exorcist tilted his head, as if quizzically, to her abrupt question. "As in what context?"

"I mean, do you think it's wrong to not be yourself? Like, sort of fake? As if…you're hiding something from others, although you don't want to. You hide it since you're afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of greater, worse circumstances that may occur to you if you don't hide it." She replied truthfully.

"Of course, if it is for a good reason, there is nothing wrong with having secrets. It is always well, to keep some things to yourself, or there would be no point to being an individual."

"Is that so…?" Allen gave him a doubtful look. "But at the same time, you feel guilty for keeping so much back from friends. But even if I could tell them…I can't. It's been so long, too long, I'm scared. Even if I can't take it anymore, I still have to find a way, ne? I promised…I promised Mana!" Unaware that she had switched from the inauspicious, ambiguous third person to using 'I,' Allen did not see the slight smile on Hebraska's shadowed face. "I trust them, but still…"

So long it had she held secrets within her heart, much too long. From within it crushed her, much like the suffocating pressure of the bandages that taped down her breasts. In her ears it sounded weak, halfhearted, and silly, too much like a lame excuse. Was it really such a great shame to hide so much, even if she had plenty of honest reasons to back her spineless cowardliness?

"Aa. Big secrets would eventually find their way into the light." Hebraska said noncommittally, to her great relief understanding her stuttering, half-assed explanation that simply tumbled out incoherently from her traitorous mouth. "Which brings me to ask….Allen Walker, when do you intend on telling everybody that you are a girl?"


	9. Rinali's Lonely Search

Disclaimer: D. Gray man is not mine, it belongs to Hoshino-sensei. The song "Infection" does not belong to me, Chihiro Onitsuka owns it.

Author's Note: Yay, some RinaliAllen. They're my favorite pairing in D. Gray Man, since shounenai/shoujoai isn't exactly something I really read into. The only reason this is a KandaAllen fic is that it's for the most part hetero, and I settled on tossing a die to see who to pair Allen with. Rabi was odd and Kanda was even-a 3/6 chance. Besides, Kanda's fun to write.

I tried not to write too much on this, allowing the lyrics speak for itself. The song is called "Infection," sung by the ever-wonderful Chihiro Onitsuka. It's a great song, so lovely and full of emotion, and her voice is truly different from other Japanese female artists. If anyone wants the mp3 (although they'll have to delete it after 24 hrs for copyright reasons), I'll upload it somewhere like UP-FILE and send the link if you leave an email or signed reply.

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9. Rinali's Lonely Search

_"I need to say something good in reply"  
and then the weeds on my tongue multiply._

Rinali had wanted to say so much more, but somehow when she was in the presence of a certain white-haired exorcist, she found her tongue silenced, and all speech forgotten. Her vocal cords rebelled, and her consciousness shut down.

She was familiar with the layout of the black tower, being able to even find her way around in the dark. As she ran through the halls in search of him, feeling a strange sense of desperation, she felt her own loneliness in such a situation threaten to bring tears to her own eyes. Her incapability to speak out frankly disturbed and frustrated her.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why?"

But in the deepness of the hallways, going every other way but where she truly wanted to be, there was no-one to answer the sad question of a sad heart.

_the shadow cutting across my heartbeat  
peels away someone's mask again. _

It had been like this, too, in the middle of the night, when she was up, for reasons unknown to even her, to silently patrol the tower. She would hold her hands up in the bright moonlight filtering in through the tower windows, and marvel at how transparent the skin looked under the light, as if she was able to simply drift away. It would be a liberating feeling, simply to drift, carried away by nothing by the caressing night wind, which would be as soft and light as the whispers of lovers in the night, and warm as the pounding of her heart in her bosom.

If she simply left like that, would _he_ care?

His wide blue eyes, amiable and smiling, looked upon her everyday, with the kindly and caring gaze of a close friend, but Rinali could not help but think that there was something lacking in that.

_In the night  
I sit down as if I'm dead._

_my heart blows up, and the pieces flying everywhere glitter  
but when did I become this weak? _

It had become a habit of hers, in her nighttime prowls, to stop in front of a certain door in the dormitory wings, and look upon it almost wistfully. Brown, with rusty hinges and chipping paint, it was a most unremarkable door, and did not differ from any other one in the entire tower.

But what she found so fascinating about that door was the even more fascinating person who slept behind it, no doubt all twisted in the blankets and with cold sweat soaking his effeminate face, making his silken white hair cling to his skin. More often than not, she would hear soft cries and suffocated, repressed sobbing, as he awoke from the throes of nightmares. What demons haunted his sleep, she wished that she could drive them away.

_I pretend that I don't notice that my legs have given way._

_My foolish sickness just gets worse and worse.  
_  
_In the night  
I realize this infection_

_my heart blows up, and the pieces flying everywhere glitter  
but when did I become this weak? _

But in the end, she was unable to do anything, and would be left wondering why Allen had such an effect on her like that, a dynamic that caused her to share in his insomnia and stand silent, melancholy guard outside of his door.

He was an addiction, the flickering light to which she, a hapless moth, was ever winging to. It was as if it was a disease, and he the virus. A deadly disease that she yearned to get rid of and yet couldn't bear to part with, the sickeningly sweet symptoms of which she craved. Again and again, she was compelled to return every night. And it was on one of those nights when she discovered what exactly was wrong with her. Her legs had suddenly been unable to support her weight, as the joints had melted along with her mind in the sheer revelation of it all. Like a heavy weight, it crushed her under the full entirety of its meaning. Startlingly all at once, it all suddenly made sense, the sudden blushing flashes of heat she would feel, and her tongue-tied speechlessness. The thought of it made her feel like the fool she believed she was.

_I'm beginning to be scared of many kinds of tiny fevers  
though I don't have a hope of winning  
I must awaken from this._

She was in love with him.

_  
my heart blows up, and the pieces flying everywhere glitter  
but at some point I became this weak. _

She couldn't help but feel a sense of betraying her friendship with him; after all, she had no right to think of a good friend like that. She was almost disgusted at how much of a fool her feelings had made her, reducing her to a wibbling wreck of lovesickness. Rinali had always saw herself as a strong woman, but she didn't know it hurt so much to be so strong. But yet, her heart was weak, and she suddenly found the strength she had always prided herself on being shattered, the pieces slipping through her fingers like the fine-grained sands of time. The knowledge that he saw her as nothing more than a friend wounded her deeply, much more than she had expected.

_my heart blows up and the pieces, pieces flying everywhere..._

_when did I become this weak?_

This temporary, silly indulgence of lovesickness was something that would only cut deeper and deeper into her soul. Rinali knew she couldn't keep on chasing him forever in her dreams, as she did even now as she looked for him in the tower, since he would never look back.

But the pain was sweet as it was bitter, and she knew that it would be enough for her to simply follow him, even if she was helplessly unable to actually do anything but try to catch up. Even if it risked losing her friendship with him.


	10. The Man at the Sidelines

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray man, it belongs to Hoshino-sensei.

Author's Note: This chapter...wow, way too much dialogue. I haven't had time lately to write, and I've found it sort of harder to keep the characters in character, especially since this story is supposed to be angst...That's a problem I've been worried about recently with this fic, whether or not the characters are OOC or not. Like in this chapter, Komui is difficult to write as a character and so is a serious Rabi. As always, please review...

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10. The Man at the Sidelines ♥

Komui's Office, 2:30 AM

"Absolutely not. I will not permit it."

When the great man spoke, he expected it to be final, and the last word. Rabi differed, and as always, was the exception to any unwritten rule. Laws were only made to be broken, after all. So strong was his will, that defying Komui and going against the bookman's code of nonalignment, did not seem at the time a great transgression. All there was in his mind was to make his proposal. And well.

"But he's in no condition for a long, drawn-out fight, much less an entire mission guarding a city somewhere in Europe!" The incorrigible redhead protested. "Haven't you noticed how worn-out he's getting? And he's probably depressed, too!"

"It doesn't matter-we are short on staff, and he is one of the few remaining exorcists capable enough to handle the mission with the rest of you. I will book no argument about having Allen stay behind, no matter what the case may be."

When Komui saw the stubborn, unrelenting jut of Rabi's firmly set jaw, he sighed. "Listen, Rabi." He said in a much gentler voice, "Allen's needed out on the field. I know you're concerned for your comrade's health like that, but that isn't always the best for everyone else."

Rabi ground his teeth in frustration, and tightened his grip on his mallet, forcing it to stay on the floor and not smash into the irritating scientist's head. Komui was nothing but a stone wall, and talked as much sense as a stone wall possibly could. His own tongue felt made out of brick, as arguing had never been his forte, at least not when it was required to be understandable by other parties. Although boisterous and loud in expressing things, Rabi was much more of a thinker than a speaker, and enunciating his point of view sometimes proved to be a challenge. At times like that, his trusty mallet came into play, but beating his point into his superior's head was not a viable option at the moment.

"Look, Beansprout-chan is already in bad enough condition as he is. Didn't I tell you? The kid was downright creepy the other day I was talking with him! If there isn't something wrong…hell, I'd even eat my own wood seal."

"So, you say this is the second time?" Komui repeated patiently, his slender dark brows meeting in a tense, knitted knot in the middle of his forehead. "The second time in two days that the boy simply exploded?"

"Well I wouldn't really count the first time in the cafeteria as an explosion, really." Rabi, leaning against his mallet, scowled and tapped his fingers against Komui's desk. He glowered at the wooden surface, which innocently bore the brunt of his explosive worry. "Outburst would be a better word, really. But he was really…depressed then, if I may say so myself. Beansprout-chan's usually so spunky, I honestly don't know what's gotten into him."

"Kanda, perhaps."

"Partly, but it's not completely his fault." Rabi saw fit to defend his sullen friend as well, who was often misunderstood by many. "The two avoid each other like the _plague_. They don't really speak enough to disagree over anything, with the exception of missions-"

"And them quarrelling over missions is bad enough. Honestly, Rabi, you're overreacting, Rabi, over one-"

"_Two_."

"-Ok, two measly fits that Allen threw. Can't it just be hormones? Allen's fifteen and growing up. Although I must say, it's not like him to be so down like that, if you're correct."

"That's right, he's no normal fifteen-year old boy."

"If I remember correctly, you and Kanda were powder kegs, literally, when the two of you were his age. So maybe the boy's just growing up."

"It is a problem when Allen's hurt, confused, and depressed." Rabi slammed his fist down onto the table, creating yet another dent in the hard wood. Many of them dimpled other places on the same table where his left hand had strayed in its anger. "He is, I can tell. But it's in a different way, way different from what Kanda and I used to be."

Rabi's deafening tone, driven by so much emotion and sureness, shocked Komui. Rabi himself was startled, but he grimly stood his ground. There was an old promise he had to uphold, and a young friend to protect; never let it be said that Rabi didn't take care of his own, since he was fiercely loyal and defensive to his friends.

"I know what you think. Allen is an enigma, he truly is." Komui reflected. "We still barely know anything of him, other than his adventures with Cross as recorded by Timcanpi. But still, Rabi…even if there was something wrong with him, we can't do anything. First, we don't have enough information. Second, he is needed right now. With so many akuma attacks, we have to go into twenty-four hour shifts, starting next week too. And the missions will only get more and worse. Allen is very much an asset that we cannot lose-all of you exorcists are in these times of trouble. Selfishly having him break from his duties for the sake would only be self-gratifying. We would feel better knowing that he's well and all, but everyone else would be suffering, and then-"

"Everyone else! It's always about everyone else!"

"_Of course it's about everyone else!_" Komui stood up, and stared eye to eye to the younger man, both gazes unwavering and cold. "That is what we live for. That is the meaning of the Black Priests. You should know, better than everyone else, being an exorcist and all."

"I don't."

"Pardon?"

"I said, I don't." Rabi's jade eye, narrowed and almost foxlike in its intensity, bore into him with a barely suppressed rage that smoldered and burned like hellfire. "I honestly don't get this. Only duty matters, not the people who actually do it! At this rate, we're going to lose exorcists. People like Beansprout."

"Rabi, stop behaving like a child."

"A _child_?" A bitter laugh ripped its way from his throat, along with a hoarse curse. "I haven't been a child since I was _twelve_. Remember, I gave up all rights and protections of childhood after I was a bookman's apprentice, the moment I entered the Black Order. All of us did, right? You saw Rinali, crying and suicidal, when you first came in here, right? "

"Rabi. _Shut up_."

The bookman-in-training ignored the telltale signs of Komui's struggling not to lose his temper, in the strained voice and clenched fists. "But it's all the same, right? Either way, we use ourselves to bait the akuma just to protect the people who need to be protected. That's all very well, but how about-"

"Don't think I don't care. I do. I want Allen to have a break as much as you do, but he can't since that would interfere with duty." Komui's voice, ravaged and haunted by guilt, was quiet, with none of the fury that Rabi had expected. "Do you know how I feel, every time I send Black Priests out, knowing that it may be the very last time I see them? Do you know how many of them have sat in my office, right on that bench, having tea as I briefed them on a mission? And how many never came back to sit there again?" Komui pointed at the small, wooden bench, the seat cushions of which slightly crushed out of shape from so many years of being continuously sat on. Faded tea stains, in all variety of colors and age splattered the cream-colored upholstery here and there, were the only traces of left by previous Black Order members, many of whom never returned. The very last reminders, minuscule and insignificant as they were, of the fact that their presences had once graced the ranks of the Priests. A sliver of blue Chinese porcelain from that morning's meeting had wedged itself into one of the armrests. It was yet another little mark of history left on the old couch.

"That's why I still keep that old, beat up dirty excuse for a seat. Rabi, it too is difficult for me. I have to live with the knowledge that I sent so many to their deaths." Komui's eyes, softened and saddened, looked straight at him. Rabi quivered under its intensity, but held himself up strong. "What if it is you, next time?" the scientist continued, in the same creepily soft voice, so quiet that somehow Rabi thought it almost inappropriate for such a topic, so emotionless and quiet it was. So unlike the due passion that should have been aroused. But after so much time, perhaps Komui had been slightly deadened by it all, seeing so many exorcists come and go, like leaves in the fall that dried to wispy crumbling bits and were blown away by the wind. Like ashes.

"What if it is you, Rabi? Or Kanda? Or Allen and Crowley and Miranda? Or God forbid, my own darling imouto Rinali? This is what I have to live with. The fact that I am alive, and more deserving people are not. They are the ones who go out and fight on the battlefield, putting their lives on the line for the sake of mankind, and I can only stay behind and command them from safety. I am a man whose capability lies only at the sidelines, and I hate myself for being only able to do that. Lives taken may thwart evil-as we speak, more exorcists are getting killed, I bet. But why must it be them to make the sacrifices, and I cannot?"

He suddenly found their roles reversed. As it was, Komui's fair share of troubles was quite large, and Rabi found himself sympathizing with the older scientist. The awkward situation called for the ever helpful Rabi to give some comfort, but he was at a loss for what to do. He was supposed to be unaffiliated, unconcerned, given that he was merely an onlooker on the war against evil, his job being more to record history than anything else. But he couldn't help the primal feelings of empathy, as biased as it was, that welled up within his heart.

He couldn't make tea, he couldn't pat the older man on the back and tell him it's all alright, he was unable say anything, nor do anything that would have been of any relief. To Rabi's surprise, he himself was smiling, in an awkward, confused way. His face muscles had unconsciously tightened and twitched themselves into the merest semblance of a curve, and he wondered why he was smiling, even while he felt nothing but grief. He hated it. But the bookman-in-training knew that at the moment, that was the only thing he was capable of. He hated it even more. The thought penetrated his mind like a light flashing through the dark night: did Allen feel like that, too? The boy's smile…was always there, constant as he was the light within the Black Order. They had all felt his beam of light at one point or another, but optimism had its limits as well, he knew.

"It must be hard…" the redhead voiced aloud, wonderingly.

"What's hard?" Komui inquired heavily.

"For Beansprout-chan. To keep on pretending to smile as if he doesn't give a shit about all the crap that's happening. That's what he said, the other day. And…I'm starting to understand, y'know?" Rabi, hefting his mallet, began walking over to the door, giving a little wave of parting to Komui. "We think he's so happy-go-lucky…but he's not, although he pretends to be just to keep everyone else happy. Fight on, protect, keep on living strong-that's what he says, what he does, and repeats over and over as if he really believes in it. That's nice and all, but sometimes I wonder. There's more than that brainless smile to him, y'know? There's the side of him that cheats at cards, and yells at people. He doesn't let us see it often, though, so we're totally unaware. Although that still doesn't answer any questions really, other than the fact he might not like hiding it…Oh well, that's just my two cents."

"I think you're on the right track though." Komui called, making the exorcist stick his head back through the door. "Allen…is a mystery we can't solve."

"Aa. Is that so?" Rabi grinned cockily. "We'll see, won't we?"

"Will we?" Komui didn't like the way that sounded. "Don't go pestering the kid. And I thought you were the one looking out for him."

"Heh, I've got more tact than that." Rabi grumbled.

"Don't get the wrong idea though-Allen's still going with you, and nothing's going to change my mind." The scientist pointed out, warningly.

"…" Rabi, seeing that nothing more could be said on the matter, left, twirling his now miniature, shrunken mallet in his long fingers. However, the meeting with the genius scientist left him with many, many new ideas in his head, ideas that perhaps did not have a right to be there. However, Rabi had always been a stubborn guy, nearly as impulsive as Allen and as curious as Rinali.

"Enter Rabi, super espionage agent!" He shouted dramatically, striking a pose outside of Komui's office. And then he frowned. "Doesn't sound quite right. How 'bout, 'super master of the shadows?' Nah. Too long….Super Detective Rabi! Heh. Shorter, at the very least."

He never had good naming sense to begin with, having in his nearly inexistent childhood named his pet rock the obvious, dull title of 'Mr. Rock.' As he walked along the hallway in search of a certain white-haired boy, he wondered, as Komui was doing at the moment, just how many secrets that well-loved, dimpled smile of his concealed. Anyways, he decided that keeping his one green eye trained well on the mysterious, cursed exorcist otherwise known as Allen Walker could hardly be a bad idea.


	11. Hebraska the Shrink: On Gender

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man, it belongs to Hoshino-sensei.

Author's note: No matter how I look at this chapter, something isn't right about it. Total angstballing, sorry if Allen is a bit OOC. At least _some, _although not all,of the reasons behind Allen's deception and Mana's death are revealed; there's definitely a lot more that I have to write about it. After this chapter will start the Vienna Arc, the first full-length mission in this fanfic. It'll probably be a good five or more chapters, so please bear with me, there's still a lot more to go, including a second London Arc and a third Edo arc.

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Hebraska the Shrink: On Gender ♥

Hebraska's Chambers, 2:31 AM

Her universe, in all its little finenesses and details, like the droplets of sweat on her face, seemed to freeze in an icy mirror, in that one instant that Hebraska spoke. Her reflection was portrayed in a twisted image, a perfect mask of her own. And then the ice cracked, and she could envision the broken surface, no longer so smooth. Her mask…was gone, and she was left raw and open, in the silence that followed the question.

"Um…pardon, I didn't hear what you said?" She said, but it was too late. The drops of nervousness soaked into her white bangs and clinging to her forehead. Allen made sure that her eyes were guileless and wide in curiosity, to hide the turmoiling thoughts of anxiety that currently racked her mind. _Smile smile_. The expression was very well-practiced, a smooth poker face perfected during her years with Master Cross; it had been much needed once she entered the ranks of the Black Priests, and she grudgingly thanked her womanizing, slightly abusive master in her mind, for sending her to gamble so much. However, it was not enough to compensate for her sudden lack of speech.

"I said, when do you intend on telling everyone that you are a girl in disguise?" Hebraska repeated patiently, his tone placid and neutral. But what mattered most to Allen was the lack of judgment in it, which boosted her wilting courage.

"When and how did you find out?" She demanded, dumbfounded. "I've only seen you two or three times ever since I entered the Order!"

"Once is more than enough. Besides, you just confirmed for me it a few minutes ago, with that slack-jawed look. I have always suspected it, even, with your oddly-feminine looking face."

Allen found Hebraska's soft chuckles oddly insulting, and bristled. "You mean the first time I met you? But I'm so careful, how can you-" Her eyes widened, as Hebraska pointedly waved his long tendrils around. The blood ran to her cheeks in sudden shock and understanding, and she placed her hands there on the hot skin in a failed attempt to hide her too-obvious embarrassment. "Aaa-you did not…"

"I'm sorry, Allen Walker, but you need to bind them a little tighter next time." The other exorcist replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I thought that there was something odd about you when I gauged your synchronization with your innocence."

"_Hentai._" She mumbled, crossing her arms protectively over her chest and glaring at him. "You could have told me, you know. And then I'd be more careful."

"Me, a pervert? Allen Walker, I couldn't have told you anyway, since Komui had always accompanied you." Hebraska said with deliberate emphasis. "And surely you did not want him and everyone else to know of your true gender. As it was, I only tried to follow your intentions, and kept quiet."

"So, are you going to tell anyone?" She asked, slightly shy and uncomfortable with the topic.

"No. Why should I? This is none of my business, Allen Walker. Either way, gender does not matter."

"Are you mad? I mean, I hid from everyone that I'm a girl, and…"

"What gender do you think I am?"

Stunned, Allen looked up at Hebraska's body, which was smooth tendrils all over, with no display of anything that would have specified a sex. "Um…male, I guess, since everyone refers to you as one."

"Really? But which do I really look like?"

"…em, neither." Allen mumbled, with a shrug.

"So there. Does it really matter that much, what gender others see you as? I might as well be a woman, for all everyone else says. But there is no difference-I am merely Hebraska the exorcist who holds the innocence. As you are Allen Walker, the time-destroyer."

To what Hebraska just said, Allen could find no retort nor response, as deep down the words had truly resounded, and she truly felt that he was absolutely correct. She knew it was impossible to live as a boy disguised as a girl forever, but she had no choice but to continue this deception for as long as possible. But if everyone else was so accepting as Hebraska, she felt that the most of her worries were already gone.

Most of them.

"What I want to know is why you are here dressed as a boy, Allen Walker." Hebraska said, as a most interesting variety of emotions playing across the white-haired girl's face, ranging from embarrassed to worried to sad. "After all…it is… rare, so as to say, to see a girl masquerading like you are."

Allen sighed, at the dreaded question that she knew was coming, from the time she knew the exorcist had seen past her disguise. "It's a complicated matter." She said, with a little frown. "I had disguised myself as a boy for most of my life, and Master Cross thought that it was best for me to remain like that when he found me, since he felt that I would be safer as a boy. As a boy, I can go into salons, bars, and gambling areas where it wouldn't be proper for a girl to be. Also, the Millennium Count thinks I'm a boy, and if need be, I could always shed my disguise when in danger and become a girl again. So in a way, it's an escape route for me, ever I need it. Cross foresaw that much. But it was Mana-my adoptive father- who suggested it in the beginning….I don't quite remember when I started, but it has been seven or eight years at the very least. All I know is that when I was attending the local grammar school, I kept on being picked on, all because of this hand."

She held the mentioned appendage up, eying it sadly. It was ironic how only as an exorcist her scaly red hand could be accepted, whereas when she was simply a civilian, it was hated by everyone else. The very same weapon that was used to save lives was loathed, and made her an outcast. "So he decided that I had to learn to stick up for myself, and fight if I had to."

"But you could have done that as a girl, right?"

"No. Boys always have a much better chance of surviving in the world alone. Girls however easily fall prey to the dangers of the world, having to worry about being raped, mugged, sold off to be a prostitute, et cetera et cetera." Spoken aloud, Mana's fears for her well-being sounded even more frightening than she had thought they were when she was a child. "And I was alone a lot, since Mana was often out; at times he wouldn't come home for days. Look at Rinali-I could have ended suicidal and desperate as she used to be, if I had the same fate. I never had a constant guardian like Komui by my side, since Mana was more often than not out. That didn't matter though-I loved him all the same. I never knew what he did as a living, but I knew he was involved with science in some way. We had a sort of laboratory in the basement, and late at night I could hear him tinkering around down there."

"A scientist, you say?" Hebraska noted.

"I guess. Or something along the lines to that effect." Allen shuddered slightly upon remembrance; even though it had been many years ago, the thought of the time when she had accidentally blew up the laboratory at age five still sent cold chills down her spine. If Mana had not swatted away the lethal mix of potassium and water that she had childishly made in a poor attempt to play 'house,' she would have gotten her head blown off, or possibly suffered even worse circumstances, not that she could possibly think of one. Potassium and water were not meant to combine, as the following product had been an explosion that had rocked the foundation of the little brick house they lived in together. A small smile formed upon her face, genuine and pure in the nostalgia that it held, as she sadly recalled the red and raw skin on Mana's arms and hands, burnt and scratched by shards of glass that had flown through the air as he shielded her small child form from the blast. "He trained me to stand up for myself, even when I was being bullied. He left for long periods, and expected me to fend for myself-perhaps it was his way of toughening me to live in the world. And then…he left me, this time forever."

The small lump of hurt and sorrow that had enlargened and stuck in her throat as she spoke seemed to choke her, not letting her go on. Allen couldn't bear to go on, even. As tears fell, they created ripples of unbearable sorrow that spread through her mind. It had been then, as she stood so many years ago, that her world had died, taken part of her with it. Only the weeds and ruins were left, in her memory. Years later, her heart had only decayed more, and the pain never went away, the sharp knife's edge never dulling, never cracking nor breaking. She didn't notice that she was crying so hard Hebraska was bending over in concern. Allen slapped away the gentle long tendrils that reached out for her.

"Don't touch me!" The smaller, white-haired exorcist sobbed into her hands, as her legs buckled and she collapsed in a half-sitting position on the floor of the elevator. "Just don't. Don't." She couldn't respond to care and comfort the way she wanted to; her raw and aching heart wouldn't allow her, and the only one she wanted to touch her was Mana, who would hold her and rock her as he did so long ago, when she was still a little girl no higher than the doorknob to their house in Britain.

"It still hurts doesn't it? Losing a loved one." The holder of the innocence presently said, and she felt his nonexistent eyes staring at her.

"…It does. It hurts so bad." Allen whispered between painful hiccups. "Although it's been several years, the ache isn't any less. Every day. I miss him so much!" She took a ragged breath that turned into a pained whimper. Time had not blunted the knife's edge, and she felt it as if it had just been yesterday, the loneliness of standing alone in front of a grave…with nothing that could sooth the pain but an empty, false promise from the Millennium Earl. "If only I can turn back time to when he was alive!"

Deep, breathless keening, heartbreaking and wild, ripped uncontrolled from her throat, as she gripped in numb hands her white hair. "If only, if only time can flow backwards…I wouldn't have made father into an akuma…and killed it-no, not it, _him_, with my own hand." She, conscious of the other exorcist's shock, held up her trembling hand for Hebraska to see. The hand's palm was bleeding, an injury inflicted by herself, so tight had she clenched it into a fist that the fingernails had cut deeply into the skin. "I'm such a monster, right? That's what everyone else said, and that's exactly what I-"

SLAP!

"Allen Walker, acting like an emo-inspired sob will get you nowhere."

Allen stared in shock and a little anger, holding her stinging cheek as Hebraska withdrew his tentacle. It returned, and gently wrapped around her, although she tried to shy away from it. She felt herself being lifted up, gently, as several other tendrils wound themselves around her, cradled in their careful grip. Distinctly, she was aware of the great throbbing heartbeat of the other exorcist, and the warmth that emanated from his inhuman body. At first she stiffened, being in such close quarters with Hebraska, and not very comfortable with bodily contact with someone else. She did not remember just how long it had been since she had been held, or that she had felt someone else's touch, but she relaxed in his grip.

"I may be a poor substitute for your father, young exorcist, but I'll be here ever you need me. So feel free to cry all you want." Hebraska's warm voice rumbled in his chest, and she felt it vibrate against her skin as he cradled her delicately like a china doll, as if afraid to break her.

Allen couldn't stop the hot tears. She promised herself that it was the last time that she would ever cry. After allowing herself one last crying jag, she would get up, and start walking again, walking on and on as she had promised Mana. It was too late to turn back on the path she had started on, and there lay nothing but bleakness in front of her.

But still, she couldn't stop shaking and sobbing, even in Hebraska's protective embrace. The great exorcist continued rocking her quietly. Perhaps Allen herself did not realize it, or was even holding back, but a greater part of the puzzle that was her life was missing. Although he preferred not to say, Hebraska thought that there was more to Mana's fate than what he had heard. Something evil, mysterious, and shrouded in darkness.

It wasn't all.

Reason may have left it at that, and Allen was at the moment too emotional for any additional questioning, but Hebraska was positive that the former head of the Science Department, and famed exorcist known as the "One Shot" Mana Walker, had other reasons for Allen's deception.

"May God be with you, Allen Walker." He whispered to the now drowsy and softly whimpering exorcist in his arms. "You will need His guidance, I am sure of that."


	12. Train Ride

D. gray-man is not mine, it belongs to Hoshino-sensei.

Author's Note: Ok, I got mixed responses from reviewers for the last chapter. Yes, I know it was a bit too angsty, so sorry to those who did not like this new development in the story. And since I don't have all of the D. Gray-Man manga chapters, forgive me if I've changed Allen's past a bit- that goes for anyone in this fic, including Rabi, Rinali, Kanda etc.

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Train Ride ♥

Top of a random building, 11:30 PM

The flagon strapped at his side next to his mallet's holster was not of water, as most believed. It was not of Japanese herbal tea, either, as Kanda carried around, nor was it of Allen's preferred droughts of some sugar-saturated liquid. Drinking on the job was punishable, especially when one had to bear the heavy burden of being a black priest, not to mention underage as well. But still, Rabi always carried some beer around anyhow, not just out of sentimental value, but also for the fact that it was alcohol. While beer did not possess as much alcohol content as other liquors, the property of flammability was very useful, especially when coupled with his fire seal. Of course, he had only attempted it only experimentally once before, and with vodka to boot. The resulting explosion had caused him to have gotten his ears boxed badly by Panda.

Rabi took a swig from his flagon, and wiped his mouth free of the droplets that clung to his lower lip. The others that he missed with his sleeve were blown away by the abnormally cold and harsh wind, wet with rain and slightly chilly, foretelling the onset of an early winter.

Due to the serious lack of Black Order personnel, they were not accompanied by a finder, but rather had to rely on their own golems for aid. Kanda continued grumbling about his black wireless golem, which obviously was not performing to his liking, the sound raspy and conflicting with other such electromagnetic forces. Allen was quiet and silent, watching for the train that would pass underneath. And of course, Rabi kept his one eye lazily on Allen.

The bookman was watching him carefully, observing and making mental notes of his every single movement in detail. He was after all, one accustomed to recording history as it was, and had no problems with memorizing anything. But whether or not he would recall the information was another thing altogether. Rabi gave a little exhalation, bored of watching, since all the boy did was to yawn sleepily, which was normal behavior since it was late at night already. The attention he was lavishing on the white-haired boy no doubt had Cross's unconventional and cognizant little golem irritated to no end, for it bit his nose once, and hard enough, before being called off by Allen, who gave him a halfhearted grin of apology.

"Sorry, Rabi. Tim's just cranky I guess. He hates long trips."

"It's all right, it's all right."

However, Rabi noted to keep an eye out for those little fangs next time. He had never noticed it before, but it surprised him how a mere sentence of reassurance slipped out of his mouth so easily, as if it had no significance, no meaning. It had been just a reflex, Allen politely said sorry and he just replied as needed. It's all right. What was alright? What was real and what was not?

Discouraged by Timcanpi's rabidly protective presence, Rabi shifted his attention to the much more interesting Kanda, who by was snapping angrily at whoever that was conversing with him over his much-abused golem. The long haired exorcist, hair whipping in the strong wind, flicked the poor little black thing as it hovered in the air, and gave his usual 'che' sound of disapproval as the sound quality merely worsened.

Rabi's face softened as he looked at the other boy; While Kanda was expert in holding people at arm's length, none but Rabi had ever gotten close enough, to truly be called a friend. Indeed, their strange comaderie went way back, the redhead mused, and years had developed a strong bond between them. The attachment to each other was not visible to the ordinary observer, since Kanda would not have it any other way. Instead, it made itself known in the littlest unnoticeable ways, like taking the other's back in a battle, or working together to take down one akuma, or even Kanda's tolerance for the other. It _was_ possible to work with Kanda without getting killed or annoyed to death by his haughtiness, and Rabi was living proof of that.

In his mind, Rabi would always see Kanda not as the cold and arrogant ice-prince he had gradually become, but rather the young, headstrong child he met five or six years ago with the horrible haircut and who couldn't swing a sword for his life.

"The train's coming." Allen stated, standing up from where he was crouched on the roof, and preparing to spring. Timcanpi took its place of honor on the crown of his head, as Rabi eyed it nervously, clutching his bitten nose. "It's ten minutes early."

"And I thought we were going on the eleven-forty train." Kanda grumbled, unceremoniously shutting off contact with Komui on the golem without so much as a goodbye.

Rabi shook his head, knowing that Kanda could make any good thing become a bad one, as quick as one could say 'che.' He was a sharp, merciless critic, shrewd and pessimistic. Perhaps that was why Allen had been such a foil for him, standing in perfect contrast with his impulsive and optimistic way, the two being complete polar opposites. Opposites tended to attract, giving the laws of physics, but Rabi was fairly sure that the two exorcists would never work out their differences. The pair simply did not see eye to eye-and it was not just Allen's lack of height and Kanda's sudden growth spurt in later years.

The train roared beneath them, its engines chugging along furiously in response to the driver's demand for speed. The whistle blew loud and long, deafening him temporarily as he prepared to jump. To his surprise and later, horror, Allen had already disappeared along the side of the building, leaping down. As if in slow motion, Rabi watched the boy fall through the air, coming down at the worst time imaginable. Like a bird with a broken wing, helpless, and buffeted this way and that by the air drifts, completely at the mercy of the wind. Then the water tank perched on top of one of the cars collided with him, in full force as he neared the train. He had obviously meant to alight in front of it, but had misjudged the timing and had started descending as the tender at the rear passed. Thus having it slammed into his back as he landed. Rabi could almost hear the brutal, crushing sound of it over the noise of the train and wind. The force of the 120 mph. train had driven it straight into the young exorcist's suddenly so frail-looking body, and he slumped down next to it, whether injured or dead he did not know.

He needn't have worried, since Kanda had jumped at almost the same moment, and was at a safe position near Allen. Rabi himself leapt down, gritting his teeth at the impact against the hard roof of the train.

"Allen!" he yelled, horrified as the smaller exorcist's limp form began sliding over to rest precariously near the edge of the car he lay on. He saw Kanda, braced against the heavy wind, began making his slow and careful way over, and gave a groan of relief when he saw him grab the white-haired boy and haul him safely away.

Rabi inched over to the trapdoor that lead down into the train itself, and tugged it open. Kanda, carrying the senseless Allen slung like a sack over his shoulder, disappeared down first, falling to stand on the carpeted floor. Rabi, once he made sure the two had gone down, dropped down after them, pulling the hatch closed behind him with a bang. He gave a little grimace, and prayed to God that there were no more bad omens. The mission had not yet started, and one member of the party was already hurt. He'd like to see what shape they all would be in once they reached Vienna.

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"Honestly Rabi, I don't think the cursed brat would want you undressing him like that."

"But he's hurt, I think, where the water-thingy slammed into his stomach."

"He might think otherwise if he wakes up to find you doing that." The black-haired exorcist muttered, but sat down anyway, to watch his friend struggle with the task at hand. When Rabi put his mind to it, the job always got itself done, whether he had the necessary ability to perform it or not. In many cases, it was simply a matter of sheer luck. Or idiotic courage that fueled it.

Rabi busied himself with undoing the clasps of the exorcist's coat that Allen wore, tugging it off the unconscious boy's form. "We're all men here anyhow, so it doesn't matter anyway. God…The kid's so skinny and little he might as well be malnourished for all he eats!"

Kanda simply rolled his eyes at his comments, and Rabi shoved the discarded cloak at him. "Here, hold this. And this. And this…and this…how many layers does he wear, dammit! I know it's sorta of wet and windy and chilly outside, but it's still just _August_!"

"So?" So? As usual, Kanda had little creativity in his remarks, replying in monosyllabic grunts or snorts. At the very least it was all that bad-tempered as he could be- it was little wonder that Kanda was one of the most feared exorcists, known as much for his horrible temper as he was for his skill with mugen. Rabi sighed as he watched Kanda silently and carelessly drop the vest, two shirts, and cloak onto the empty part of the seat.

"Hey, move the stuff, I'm going to sit there."

"Sit with the Beansprout."

Pouting, Rabi removed a roll of bandages from the clutter that filled his cloak pockets and slightly pulled up Allen's shirt, enough to reveal a smooth, slim tummy that bruised and rapidly turning black and blue where he had landed on the train. He stared at Allen's midriff, and gave a low whistle. Although he was male, Rabi eyed the smooth expanse of skin, wondering how it was possible for anyone to have such soft, pretty skin, so flawless and pale. Like a woman's stomach, it sloped down to form a little hollow where his navel was, below the jutting, prominent rounded shape of his ribs. Skinny was the understatement of the century, no, the millennium. Fast metabolism was too lax of an excuse, but some sort of eating disorder could very well be a possible and logical explanation. Of course, that would have explained why Allen took so long in the morning to dress in the bathroom. But reason told Rabi to discard that notion, since that was before breakfast and not afterwards. Unless it was the midnight snack that Allen had thrown up, but Rabi did not think that he would eat as much as during the day. But still, the boy consumed for a _snack_ roughly as much as that by he himself, Kanda, and Rinali all put together in one single _dinner_.

Allen's stomach was tender and warm under his touch, as Rabi poked and prodded expertly with delicate fingers, for any broken bones. There was probably some internal bleeding, but otherwise not much to worry about, he concluded.

"Nasty injuries here. But wow, he's sure got good skin, so pale. On par with Rinali, probably. Where on earth does he get the time to take care of it? I can't even _comb_ my own hair." Rabi muttered as he unwound a long strip from the roll. "Yuu-chan, lend me mugen."

"Why?" The other eyed him suspiciously, his hand immediately flitting to the hilt.

"To cut it of course!" Five years of putting up with Kanda had not made conversing or asking favors any easier, Rabi noted. Reluctantly, Kanda handed over the katana and Rabi cut off the strip to wind around Allen's bruised midriff, propping the younger boy up on the bench. His gaze struck by something, he paused, and brought his head closer to see, brushing the white hair aside for a better look.

"What are you doing _now_?" Kanda, clearly exasperated, looked at Rabi, who continued staring at the lower portion of the boy's neck, right above where the neckline ended. "I think you'd better stop molesting him and leave him alone."

"No…it's just strange. I never knew that Allen was one for body art. He has a tattoo like you, too."

"Tattoo? Like me?" Rabi knew that he had gotten Kanda's attention because of the slight upwards inflection at the end of the word, though the stubborn man was trying to hide his interest.

"Yeah." He said slyly. "A tattoo."

"What's it of?"

"Dunno. It could be a butterfly. Or an elephant. Or even a dolphin, hehe."

"It's a _flower_." The black haired exorcist leaned over, though reluctantly, to have a look, shot a look of disgust at the senseless exorcist, who Rabi was thankful not to have awake at the moment. "Of all things to get…"

"So it's a flower." Rabi shrugged, and tucked that little fact away in his mind for later contemplation. "A…um…pansy?"

"Sakura, you dimwit."

"Eh?" Rabi looked questioningly at Kanda who had gritted the word out from between his teeth. "I didn't know the great Yuu-chan knew about flower families and genuses." He said sarcastically.

"It's not a family nor genus, whatever that is. Sakura, as in cherry blossoms in Japanese." The black-haired exorcist grumbled. "I spent an entire summer teaching you the language and you forget it…"

"Why would he have a Japanese flower on the back of his neck?" Rabi wondered aloud. A sudden thought struck him between the eyes, and he wondered why he had not, with all his intelligence and cunning, thought of it before. Agent Rabi was ready to spring into action. "Hey…I wonder if he has any more of these flower-things on him…"

Any data would be good data, he decided, no matter how Yuu-chan would scoff. The redhead had always possessed a natural curiosity, which refused to be sated. Also, Rabi had taken it upon himself to carefully observe Allen, and note down any changes in behavior. While the boy wasn't actually awake at the moment, any other observations would be progress to solve the mystery that was Allen Walker. But before he could remove the boy's shirt, a sudden chomp on his right ear reminded him that Timcanpi, as always, was vigilant and watchful of Cross's young charge.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow-owwwww!"

Ruefully, he rubbed his now bleeding ear, and glowered at the little golem, which seemed to bristle back in response, baring its dangerous fangs in warning.

"Geez…I was only curious."

"Che, curiosity killed the cat."

Muttering curses, Rabi thought that it would be prudent to leave for a while, before Tim decided to maul his face next, and Kanda added even more insult to injury with that rough tongue of his. Accursed little golem, foiling his plans. The bathroom was the nearest place where he could nurse his wounded nose and ear in private without any snickering from Kanda. With as much dignity as he could muster having had his pride sorely bitten, Rabi ran out of their personal compartment. "Yuu-chan, finish wrapping him up for me, 'k?"

Leaving Kanda alone with an unconscious Allen should not be any trouble at all, to the best of the young bookman-in-training's knowledge, as one was currently disabled and the other pissed off and brooding quietly.

Or so he thought.

Rabi, whose judgment was currently impaired due to the pain inflicted by Timcanpi, ducked into the bathroom with no further worries. The mirror in the men's restroom was smaller, at least in comparison with that of the women's, since he had always assumed that it was a given that women spent much time primping and seeing if they looked fat or not. Rabi had never felt so self-conscious, leaning close to the reflective surface to check the wounds on his face. Unlike Kanda who kept his hair long and always scrubbed to a shine with soap, and possibly Allen who he had just seen kept his skin so perfect, the redhead had never saw fit to indulge in his narcissist side. Although he had been described as 'hot,' 'cute,' or even 'good-looking,' there was little he was actually proud of. His flame-red hair and boyishly rough, rougish looks had attracted plenty of females, however, much to his great joy.

"Agent Rabi, you look a mess." He mumbled. Indeed, a sight for sorer eyes had never been seen by him in all his life. Timcanpi would have made an excellent watchdog, if it ever saw fit to change its occupation, since it already possessed the mean temper, protective nature, and razor sharp teeth. The lattermost had done Rabi the most corporeal injury, as a bite-sized chunk of flesh was missing from his earlobe and the bridge of his much-abused nose was bleeding and slightly swollen.

"Geez, I look like shit." He continued commenting to his reflection, squinting his one green eye for a better look. Perhaps he was just nearsighted, but he thought he looked worse than usual. The young exorcist gave a hearty exhalation, and soberly eyed the miniscule lines that had no right to be there on his forehead. The skin there was baby-smooth, with just the exception of one tiny, irrelevant fold that had dared to exist.

"Man…I'm getting old. Pushing twenty, bugger it. Two more years. Three til I can drink legally, aha. Not that it matters anyway, Yuu-chan and I have been getting smashed since we were thirteen." Rabi had never thought before that having a conversation with himself in the mirror would have been so amusing, indeed providing some of the most mindless entertainment that he had ever had in a long time. "Yup…it's been such a long time." Almost wistfully, he stared at the cross emblazoned boldly on his uniform. Light, long fingers, calloused from training and fighting, trailed over the embroidered patch with a whisper-light touch. Nostalgia, almost, though it was short-lasting.

"How long has it been since I've been wearing this thing?" Frowning, Rabi poked and poked at the cross, his previous sense of reminiscence gone. Rabi was not as caring of his clothes as he could have, and the cross was slightly loose, some threads coming off. Pulling the seams from cloth had always been a secret pleasure of his, to watch the thread slowly unravel like he was doing now, with the cross. The fragility of the sewn bond between patch and cloak was fascinating, held together only by a thin long thread of black cotton. Like his life, it only needed one little tug on a loose end to make it all fall apart, little by little. It was only after that he remembered that the cross was needed to identify himself as bait to akuma that he stopped it, and left the dangling seam alone.

Rabi looked into the mirror, and heaved yet another sigh, something he found himself to be doing more and more recently, to his dismay. It was the sign of aging, and he was not quite sure whether if that was a positive thing or not. He allowed his one eye to glaze over with recollection, and almost thought he saw a little boy with not one, but two green eyes staring back at him from the mirror. His longish flaming hair was curling unruly around his softly rounded forehead, and slightly swept forward to a vivacious, stubbornly set chin; Rabi had not adopted the way of using a headband till his late teens, to keep his red hair out of his face. As if in a dream, the green-eyed child smiled at him, a smile full of innocence, simplicity, and infantile behavior so immaturely charming that Rabi too found himself grinning awkwardly back, back at the reminder of who he used to be- a young boy with the untamed hungry look of a lion that shone from within bright emerald orbs that captivated many with their fire.

Even still, he couldn't remember what it was like to be called by his real name.

Rabi was Rabi, and over the years he had come to merely view it as a title almost, one that he took upon being named the bookman's apprentice, since his real name was no longer used. Otherwise, what he was called was meaningless. Yet, a name was a name, and that was what he was known to his friends as.


	13. Rabi & Kanda

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray man, Hoshino-sensei does.

Author's Note: Thanks for 2000+ hits! It's like a nice early birthday present- I turn sixteen in two weeks. (Finally! I've been waiting to be able to drive legally) Of course, thanks to the lovely people who took the time to review- your comments really helped.

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Rabi & Kanda ♥

_Five years ago, Cafeteria of the Black Tower _

"_Rabi? Is that it, no last name?" A young Kanda, twelve and even then rough and rude, had asked him boldly when they first met, in the cafeteria of the Black Tower. The gruffness and stand-offish air lay thin above the soft fragility of the youngster's still-very compassionate spirit, and Rabi had instantly recognized him as a kindred soul with whom he could get along easily with. _

_Both having been left to their devices by masters whom had went to meet with Komui, the bond was quickly formed at first over lunch, although it was not until much later when it was grudgingly recognized by both. _

"_Yuu-chan- hey, can I call you that?" Within the first six or so minutes of meeting him, possibly even less, he couldn't quite recall, Rabi had already found a nickname for who he believed would be his best buddy. _

_The other boy had looked annoyed by his pestering, but Rabi had sensed with the intuition of a child, that in a way, his own tough little way, Kanda was actually glad, even when he shrugged the nickname off with a usual 'che.' _

"_Then Yuu-chan it is!" Rabi had declared, waving a stick of dango around. The memory of one of the yummy sweets flying off and hitting a finder stickily in the face still made Rabi cringe, even after so many years. And the following lecture, accompanied with two hours of kneeling, that had followed once Gramps had learned of it was one he would never forget. _

"_You never gave me any say in it, yarou." Rabi remembered Kanda had muttered on their way out. Several more flying dangos and a tipped over soup tureen later, the boys had been escorted, or quite literally, booted out of the cafeteria by Jerry upon the request of several other very much annoyed diners. As they had learned on their first day there, Black Priests did not appreciate loud children whom were messy in eating. _

♥

_It had been a mere two days later when they had gotten into trouble, again by courtesy of Rabi, who had a knack for getting into predicaments and dragging his friend into it as well. _

"_What is it?" Kanda had groused and snapped about being dragged up by Rabi at dawn, and was prickly as a porcupine until he had his morning soba. _

"_Look at what I found."_

_Such infantile behavior seemed ludicrous, even now when Rabi thought of it, but twelve-year olds seemed to possess a natural tendency to explore the limits of adult patience. He was no exception, and in that aspect was more capable than other children, even. _

"_Che, I don't see what's so good about it." As always, Kanda had been stiff and reluctant, but the excitement of stealing an unopened barrel full of beer from Jerry's broad turned back had soon brought a glow to his pale cheeks and a grin to otherwise unsmiling lips. _

_Rabi remembered his child self giving the other a gap-toothed, cavity-full grin, one that bespoke nothing good about to come. "So, wanna give it a try?"_

_They had both thought it smelled bad and was strangely frothy at the very first, but after the duration of seven more mouthfuls, both tacitly agreed that it was to their tastes. Kanda, who was more accustomed to the Japanese sake, had thought it was slightly heavier on the taste buds, but Rabi had deemed it perfect. The pair sprawled in an obscure hallway, where they had wheeled the full barrel, and toasted each other, themselves, their shoes, the birds flying outside in the spring afternoon, and just about everything they could think of without exercising caution for the amount of alcohol they were imbibing. _

_It had been then that they drunkenly declared their friendship, in so random and silly a way that Rabi, even now in all his eighteen-year-old superiority, had to chuckle slightly at the sheer stupidity. He distinctively remembered the feel of the hard wood floor against his curled side, and its refreshing coolness to his flushed cheeks, as he lay there in a beer-induced stupor. Kanda had been on his back besides him, with his shorter, untied shoulder-length hair messily spread out on the floor, without any of the effortless elegance that would be associated with him, along with coldness, so many years later. _

"_Yoooo. Y-Yuu-chan?" His own voice had been slurred and shaking as his view distorted and twisted before his eyes, seeing multiple copies of the other young exorcist. _

"_What." His usually pale cheeks strangely reddened and his breath reeking of beer, Kanda had rolled drowsily over to give him an unfocused, dull stare. _

"_Pals?"_

"_Eh?" Kanda, in his happily drunken state, had been even slower than usual on the uptake. _

"_I-I meant pals…forever."_

"_Gah. Alright. Arh…tat is…if you don't get in my way."_

_And with that, the Japanese boy had fallen asleep, rolling over and emitting soft little snores, simultaneously flinging an arm carelessly to rest over Rabi's chest. Which left Rabi spread eagled and just as drunkenly contemplating their newly formed bond. _

"_Sounds good to me…friends, yo." He whispered as unconsciousness claimed him as well. "Friends…."_

_And thus had ended a drinking orgy that had left both with massive headaches, babbling tongues, and more lectures from their masters. Despite the hangovers the next day, Rabi had believed that the experience had been excellent, and was more than eager to try it again. _

_But good things must always come to an end, like everything, whether it be the leaves on trees, good luck, health, or, of course, life. Merely a week or two after their initiation as exorcists, they were sent on their first mission. _

♥

11:43 PM, Personal Compartment on the Train

_Kanda's POV_

Although again his inflated sense of self again stood protesting in the way, Kanda again felt that Rabi had been right, for the second time in two days. They were not experiences that he cared to have again. Rabi had been on the mark about ice cubes being nice on a hot day, and now he was right about Allen. Kanda was for the most part blind to physical appearances, but he had to admit, though grudgingly and with ill humor, that the white-haired exorcist did have _very _nice skin, the lovely color of ivory. Although he was Kanda Yuu, he was not immune to lovely things. His hand unconsciously reached out on his own, and hovered just a tiny hairbreadth above Allen's exposed neck, the tips of his fingers brushing just barely against the exposed warm softness there. It was disgusting to him, being part of the Beansprout, but was conflictingly possessed a magnetic appeal. Upon contact, Kanda hissed, and withdrew his hand as if it had been suddenly scorched. Likewise, Timcanpi's angry fluttering could be distinctively heard; Kanda had never heard a golem growl like that before.

Almost in disbelief, he stared long and hard at the traitorous hand, which had seemingly just moved on its own accord all of a sudden. It had been too soft, too un-masculine and much too compelling for his liking. His breath hitched slightly in the back of his throat. Soft as the sakura petals from his hometown, petals that existed in full glory for only a brief period, and then dropped from the tree to flutter, beautiful even in its last dying moments, to the ground. He remembered how the petals would sometimes get caught in the wind, and would be blown against his face in a gentle caress. It had been that soft, and had simultaneously stirred up unwanted and long-buried homesickness for his hometown of Edo.

Kanda started as Allen stirred, and sighed in relief as the boy winced in his senselessness when he shifted to lie on his bruised stomach. Without Rabi to take his annoyance out in a verbal assault, Kanda had no choice but to glare at the only scapegoat around, who was currently unable to participate in any activity that would alleviate Kanda's anger. He had let his guard down; Kanda refused to believe that the sight -and feel- of another boy's skin could possibly arouse such sentiments of home that he had thought that he had conquered long ago. _Ano bakayarou_…

_Baka, baka, baka._ He had always found stupidity simply…stupid, for a lack of better word. When bundled together with a big, soft heart and bravery so extreme that it went past the limits of reason, he would have despised it, hated it, and wanted to destroy it. To him, people with all those qualities were always more despicable than they had a right to be, since they would always refuse to be intimidated by his mere presence, as most others were. In all of his eighteen years of life-quite a paltry sum, but more than enough for him-Kanda had only came across two of these pathetically remarkable people.

Rabi was the first. Redheaded, hot-blooded, and brash, he was truly annoying at first. Yuu-chan, Yuu-chan! The pessimistic exorcist believed with good reason that his ears had been permanently and irreparably damaged from being around the redhead too much in his childhood. The many years of their acquaintance had led to Kanda breeding a sort of reluctant tolerance, and while it seemed one-sided with Rabi being loud and open, their slowly forged friendship was completely reciprocated. But as it was, during their time in the Black Order, the mission after mission way of life had broken the redhead of carelessness, replacing it with a pliant yet stubborn sense of responsibility. But still, while it had been a convenient change, it was never as welcomed by Kanda as he had thought he would have. Should have, could have, would have-but he didn't.

Of the second person-Kanda supposed that the beansprout would never change like Rabi, since he was already so constant and idiotic that there was little hope for him lying ahead in the future. At the moment, he was undecided on whether that was a good or bad thing. It did not matter how stupid the boy was; he never wanted to see that deadened, automaton-like gaze ever again. He had seen it once in Rabi's emerald-green eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, one of which was shaded with long red eyelashes caked with redder blood. Back then Rabi had both; time had not made the eye patch any easier to see, at least in Kanda's view.

Kanda eyed the younger exorcist with distaste, eyes narrowed and slightly angry. Lying senseless and completely useless before him was one of the greatest irritants in his life, and Rabi expected him to patch it up, being the great idiot of a bookman that he was. Moreover, he could feel the hostility emanating from the little golem that usually accompanied Allen around. It would most definitely take preemptive cautions, to protect its master's idiot disciple.

"Che. I'm not going to hurt him." He snapped at it, glaring back with the same ferocity that Timcanpi backed off a little, though slowly. "I have better things to do then waste time on a cursed brat like him."

But due to Rabi's request, he reluctantly continued wrapping the other boy up, though a little rougher than necessary despite Timcanpi's constant surveillance. He pulled up the white shirt a little further, to make his work easier, and spotted a loose end of bandage, as if the brat had already bound up his chest previous to the mission. Timcanpi winged its way slightly closer, as if warning him.

"Hmph." Kanda's eyebrows twitched; knowing the beansprout, he would have adhered to the insensible code they called 'consideration' and clammed up about any injury, since otherwise Rinali or anyone else would have fretted over him. However, in a mission, an unhealed injury could prove to be one's downfall, as he had found due to personal experience.

He snorted, almost derisively, at the thought. Any blind, deaf, and dumb person could plainly see as day, even himself who was not a keen observer of people, that Rinali had a massive, unreturned crush on the brat, although for what reason Kanda could not see, since Allen was not a classically handsome boy, having more of an effeminate, too-slender body. There was something always so odd and out of place about that boy, but he could not name or fully describe it.

"Idiot, what the _hell_ does he think he's doing?"

A smaller hand swatted away his as he started to knot the bandages together. "For your information, the 'idiot' is awake and perfectly able to take care of himself. Stop it. I'll do it myself." Allen Walker, rubbing at his eyes, blinked up at him from where he lay on the couch. He hastily pulled his shirt back down, almost frantically, tucking it as if protectively back into his pants and gave the older boy a suspicious sideways glance that cut to the door. "And where's Rabi?"

"Shut up. You're only going to hurt yourself and be a burden to us. We don't need anything dragging us down, beansprout." Pushing him back down on the plush seat, Kanda yanked the knot tight, oddly satisfied with the sudden cry of pain from the other. His skill at antagonizing others had never been equaled, and he felt an odd, nasty sense of accomplishment in riling the younger boy.

"Ouch. That was uncalled for!"

Again, in his anger, the sense of seeing the younger exorcist squirm in pain was oddly fulfilling, almost sadistic in a way. Hard, cold eyes stared at Allen, unwavering and burning, for several seconds. "Next time, watch out."

"It's not as if I did it on purpose." The cursed brat returned, his retort much milder than he had anticipated, especially since Allen had already flat-out screamed at him that morning. Kanda attributed it to that he was feeling contrite, and wanted to apologize.

"_Che, bakayarou_." He replied, feeling his own countenance soften slightly against his will. "You're annoying as always."

What he had actually intended to say was not to be so soft-hearted, since apologies were worthless anyhow, at least to him, and of all people Kanda would never deign to accept one, preferring to grind it straight back into his face.

"No shit Sherlock."

"Rabi!" Allen swiveled his head around the same moment as Kanda, to see the redhead leaning in the open doorway, holding a bloody kerchief to his nose.

"Timcanpi?" The white-haired exorcist, with difficulty, pulled himself to a sitting position, and eyed the golem suspiciously. "Sorry Rabi, he gets…um…"

"Protective. Aggressive. Whatever, it's all good." Rabi said dismissively, sneaking a glare at said golem when he thought Allen was not looking. "What matters is that you should get some more rest."

"Since we have other things to do other than carrying you if you're unable to move." Kanda could not help one last jibe, in an attempt to anger the other.

The remark went right over the beansprout's small head, as he actually looked as if he was going to take the advice for once and take a nice nap. Kanda's right eyebrow twitched, displeased.

Allen yawned, and curled up on his side on the entirety of the seat opposite from his, with a little pained groan when friction against the plush surface rubbed up against his bruised ribs.

The eyebrow twitched harder.

Allen closed his eyes, and Timcanpi settled down comfortably on the crown of his head, as usual. It would be not long before he drifted away into a comatose state, due to his already soft and regular breathing.

A large vein pop suddenly appeared on Kanda's temple, pounding away as the heated and angry blood rushed through in all its fury. Likewise, his fists clenched into white-knuckled balls in the fabric of his exorcist cloak.

Allen promptly fell asleep, and soon had drifted off into a fitful, fatigue-induced slumber, complete with disgusting drooling and little snores that were strangely and not supposed to be endearing at all.

By now, Kanda was ready to blow a capillary. Or artery. Or other some other unfortunate irreplaceable part of his circulatory system, which would mean a most bloody and unsightly end for him. Steam was already being emitted out of his ears, as he took long, deep-lunged breaths to calm himself.

Being Japanese had its positive effects, since he ate fish more than others. Thus culminating in the fact that he was healthier overall as he had a diet high in omega-3 fatty acids, which aided in preventing bodily problems of the vascular type and regulated the rhythms of the heart. But not even tuna, eel, or salmon could help him now.

It was almost strange; he enjoyed provoking the Beansprout- a sad form of entertainment, really, but it was weirdly fulfilling.

"Yuu-chan, isn't it cute?"

"Shut up." Kanda, irritated, glowered at the bookman-in-training, who had comfortably plopped down on the seat next to him. "What can be cute about that accursed little leech?"

The redhead shot him a lazy, one-eyed look, and shook his head in an aggravatingly superior way that had Kanda's hand itching to hold mugen. "You just don't get it do you?" he commented with a smirk. "It wasn't so long ago, was it…what, five, six years ago. Surely your long term memory isn't that bad, right? Still remember our first mission?"

"Aa. It was to Vienna also, wasn't it."

"The night train too." Rabi said, wiping away a mock tear. "You were sooo sleepy. What a kid you used to be. Oh. The memories."

"There is no point to this conversation then." Contentious as always, Kanda's voice was icy and stiff as the atmosphere had suddenly turned in the car, as if the air itself had frozen over. "What happened, happened, and I don't think we need to be reminded of it again."

"But Yuuu-chan. I was just going to say that-"

"It's the past Rabi. Keep the so-called precious memories to yourself. They weren't pleasant ones, and I don't need to remember them." He growled, much more loudly than necessary. Coldly, Kanda stood up and put on his cloak, shrugging into the sleeves, his every movement quick and terse, due to his displeasure. He shot one last venom-filled scowl at the dozing figure of Allen, and gave a harsh grunt, disappointed that he had not had the chance to further alienate him, as he had dropped off to sleep so quickly. "Weakling. The night is still young."

As he opened the door, Rabi yawned and waved at him. "Hah…speak for yourself. Oh, and yeah, by the way, your hair's getting loose _again._"

"Hn." Kanda automatically brought his hands up to feel his ponytail, which he, having learned the lesson the hard way, usually made sure was correctly tight, smooth, and with no loosed strands. Indeed, to his surprise, the hair tie he had used was too lax and ready to slip off, not that he was going to give Rabi the satisfaction of admitting it though.

As he walked out, he jerked the tie viciously out of his long hair, letting the long tresses fall like a waterfall of soft black over his shoulders, one that glided behind him in a majestic sweep of silken strands as he left.

In his wake, he could not help but hear the low, soft chortling of Rabi, quietly filling the private car. In order to shut out the laughing, Kanda slammed the door, much harder than he usually would have, so that it wobbled and creaked in protest on its hinges, at such unneeded abuse. But even still, to his great annoyance, Rabi's amused chuckles remained in his head, lingering with a sense of vexation and embarrassment.


	14. Kanda & Rabi

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man.

Author's note: Ok...I had a blast writing this chapter. Kanda's incredibly fun to write, although his attitude sucks. And little annoying Rabi is so kawaii. Note that any italics here mean the past, five years ago. And to those who did, thank you for reviewing!

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Kanda&Rabi _♥_

12:44 AM, Train

The breeze was cool and moist on his cheeks, as he stood on the junction between the first and second cars of the long, winding train. It rattled underneath his booted feet, as the train traveled over stretches of railroad, but with his superior-as he would like to think it- sense of balance, Kanda had no trouble leaning easily against the railing. He fingered the black hair tie in his hand, letting his hair whip about as it would in the wind.

With the ease of one accustomed to doing it for a long time, he carefully finger-combed it all into one hand, and smoothed it into a semblance of a ponytail, as best as he could with the forces of nature blowing all the strands this way and that. He had gotten used to it, pulling his hair back from his face, although now it was more for necessity seeing how long it had gotten. Back then…it had been different. Everything had been different, from Rabi to the number of missions they did to his haircut.

It had taken a good number of years to get it to the length that it was today; five years later, his hair when untied reached thick and glossy to his waist, no longer the blunt-cut, shoulder-length bob that never failed to trail into his eyes at every single opportunity.

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_Five years ago; train to Vienna, Austria_

"_Are we there yet?" Rabi had addressed his imaginary audience in an exasperated whine, his voice loud and irritating, especially so since it was late at night when Kanda wanted to do nothing but sleep. _

"…_You're annoying. Haven't you already asked that five times already in the last hour or so?" He had retorted, brushing his hair out of his eyes where it had obscured his vision of the other boy sitting across from him. "Shut up. I want to sleep."_

_Indeed, his eyelids had felt heavy, but the irritating sensation of hair tickling them and the sides of his face made it difficult for him to sleep in comfort. He had tried to tuck the strands behind his ears several times, but sooner or later they would always find a way to get back in his face, as if gloating at his incapability to keep them away._

"_Y'know, Yuu-chan, if you're really all that bothered, you can tie that ridiculous haircut of yours back."_

"_Tie it?" _

"_Yeah, it's blunt-cut and looks like the cover of a toilet seat now, the way it frames your face. Especially your bangs like that."_

"_Che."_

_From narrowed eyes he watched Rabi rummage through the custom-made deep pockets of his exorcist's cloak, where he knew the boy stored all sorts of oddities and junk that would never be needed, though Rabi insisted on keeping them for future possibilities of usage. The redhead took out a broken wristwatch, an unidentifiable grey object, and to his disgust, the skeleton of a rattlesnake. He laid all of these next to him on the plush velvet seat, and continued looking. Out came a small bottle of brand-name perfume, and a spare holster for his hammer. Then Rabi took out his pet rock, Mr. Rock, and petted it fondly for a moment before it too joined Rabi's ranks of junk, in an honorary position at its very front. However, disgust was more than enough to overcome the childlike curiosity that had been piqued in Kanda. _

"_You'll never use half of that rot, you know." He saw fit to educate Rabi on the error of his ways, in accumulating such stuff that would no doubt be essential to starting an epidemic someday-only God knew how many germs were on that skeleton. With a haughty snort, he looked uneasily at said item. What was Rabi doing with one of those things anyhow? As for Mr. Rock…normally, other kids would have gotten a puppy or a kitten, but this odd choice for a pet suited the even odder Rabi well. _

"_Hey, I might not get to use all of it, but someone else will, right? Like you." Rabi triumphantly held up a small silk band. He experimentally stretched it between two fingers and tossed it to him. "Here, Yuu-chan. Tie it up."_

_Kanda stared hard at the hair-tie in his palm, wonderingly. He eyed it dubiously, even more so because of how feminine he found the offending object. His mouth turned in a displeased scowl, believing that Rabi was mocking him. "Oi. It's PINK."_

"_So? Is there anything wrong with pink?"_

_ It was the slight curve of the lips that betrayed Rabi. As it was, Kanda hated pink, judging it too feminine, and had taken great offense. Such mockery at his 'manliness' did not sit well with him, though he was only twelve. So out came Mugen, and off went Rabi's head…or it would have if he had not clumsily missed, his left wrist using too much force, grip on the sword not flexible enough, footing all wrong, and the direction of his swing misjudged, so that he did not hit his target. _

"_Ahh! Watch out, point that sharp thing somewhere else, Yuu-chaaannn!" _

_Perhaps he missed cleaving him on purpose since it was, after all, just Rabi, and too late for that sort of thing; on the other hand, he knew that had he even been dead serious in murdering the redhead, he wouldn't have been able to anyway, given his inadequate skills that were nowhere on par with his father's-_

The snapping of the hair tie in his hair brought him to his senses. His head snapped automatically back as he grabbed the broken tie in his hand, before it was carried away by the wind. Kanda had not realized just how deeply he was immersed in his thoughts. They were memoriesthat he knew he could do without, especially since he had never treasured them in the first place. Any reminder that he used to be a weak little brat, horrible at swordplay, nearly the _equivalent_ of the ever-irritating Beansprout (much to his very disgust) hurt his pride, and was entirely opposed to the strong, cold image that he was intent on maintaining now.

Mugen lay comforting in its stern, regal presence at his side. Kanda fingered the hilt deftly. Cold metal had grown to be familiar to him, with its comforting bitter smell and smooth touch. It had not always been like that, mugen being so comfortable and natural in his grasp, and it was a fact that he resented. Swordsmen were not bred out of genius, but only out of hard work. Even then, few were able to withstand the hardships of the training and maintaining their abilities with the sword.

Kanda had not been one of those few, at first.

Master Tiédeur had always been a nice man, slow to anger and patient, always gently correcting him when his stance was off, or his katana was held wrong, his grip too high on the handle or his swing too stiff. However, it took great patience on his own part as well, to stand a master who had such eccentric notions, and who saw fit to exercise them at all times, no matter if the situation called for it or not. The training ring had always smelled of the oil paints and charcoal sticks that Tiédeur used in creating his many works of art, as the man enjoyed to call them. Personally, Kanda had thought they were little more than graffiti, the product of an old man's senility, on perfectly fine pieces of paper, not to mention a boring hobby to boot. Although there were some pieces that he liked, for example the pastel sketch of a bird taking flight, which he had picked up one day when his master had left it lying on a table. It was only a simple sketch, roughly drawn on a torn piece of parchment, but the beauty was still there, in all its plainness. The simplicity was only further enhanced by use of soft, muted colors, colors that brought peace to his heart every time he looked at them. Of course, Kanda had never bothered to voice such an opinion full of praise for his master's work. But he _did _fish the crumpled picture out of the garbage, where the master had thrown it when he was cleaning out his portfolio.

The eighteen year-old, now thoroughly annoyed at his reluctance to forget, growled softly as he headed back to their personal compartment. His hair, again loose, trailed behind him. He took out from his pocket a spare hair tie.

"_K'so_…." It was _pink_, and exactly the same one Rabi had given him, his very first hair accessory. The thought that he had ever worn such a thing was disgusting. He replaced it in his pocket, deeming such embarrassment of wearing a feminine color not worth it.

He remembered how much sweat and tears he had shed, in private, when he trained alone in the solace of the forest behind the black tower after hours. With nothing but the night wildlife watching, every form was repeated meticulously, every strike, blow, and slash carefully done. He lived and breathed his katas.

_"He'll never be a good exorcist. He's too soft, too weak, too afraid to strike. His katana is only single-edged, but every time he cuts down something he hesitates, as if scared if the blade would cut himself, too." _

Teeth gritted, Kanda stomped down the hallway, past the many private compartments. So hard was his footfall that the carpet was even imprinted with his steps, the soft plush velvet crumpling under his boots in all his fury.

"_Stupid rookie, what a weakling. He's from Japan, but can't even swing his katana right. What happened? His otousama was a famed samurai."_

The shadowed faces of numerous nameless exorcists, each one with the same expression of ridicule, flashed through his mind. Their mocking words, their insults had all cut more deeply that Kanda allowed himself to show, as he stood lonesome and sad in the shadow of his genius father. It was so ironic, how he had forgotten the feeling of being underestimated, and in turn had underestimate others, one certain Beansprout in particular. Now, remembering it all, not without a sense of chagrin, the black-haired exorcist was like a hurricane, leaving destruction in its path wherever it went, as he purposely bumped into two porters, knocking their load of baggage over, and yelled at a child whose ball rolled into his way.

"_If he can't fight right, how can he protect anything? He'll never last as an exorcist, he and that wild little bookman boy who doesn't know how to brake on his mallet." _

All the years of ridicule came streaming back, and his cold demeanor was suddenly shattered, replaced by that of a lonely, lost little child. Kanda staggered under the memory, all the forgotten senses of childlike hurt coming back to hit him square in the face. His knees buckled, under the tirade of strong emotions, not felt for so long, that threatened to overwhelm him.

Kanda leaned against the wall, gasping hard. He slid down to sit down on the carpet, not minding his dignity nor arrogance. It had taken a meaningless sacrifice of bloodshed for them to prove their worth in battle, one that haunted them even years later. They had gone into it enthusiastic, he himself blinded with the thought of showing off his new, hard-won skills in using the katana and Rabi eager to kick ass.

"Oneesan?"

_Oneesan_? He was male, or least would like to believe that he looked like one. Kanda started, and glared at the small face that looked at him so innocently with wide blue eyes as he sat against the wall. It was the child who had accidentally rolled his ball a little too far into his path, and had chased after it. Detachedly, he recalled having yelled at him for doing that.

"I'm male." He snapped.

"Sowwy." The child mumbled, his eyes starting to well and shine with unshed tears, the blue orbs suddenly glistening wetly. "I didn't mwean it. Oniisan."

Realizing that the child was talking about the ball, and also recognizing him as the wrong gender, Kanda could only stare at first. Apologies. Che, so stupid. They usually stroked his ego, in making someone else bow down in admitting that they were wrong. But there was little victory in making a little kid apologize. After all, he was- four, five? Little children should be seen and not heard, though Kanda would prefer if he was not in the vicinity of any little children to begin with.

There was something compelling, though, almost familiar, about those light-colored eyes, so full of innocence and an inner brilliance that made itself apparent. His cold handsome features became considerably gentler, and he reached out a hand roughened from training, almost hesitantly, to stroke the golden curls of the child squatting before him. "Che. It's alright." He murmured, awkwardly patting him on the head. It was not every day one was approached by a little kid, thank heavens. "I don't mind."

"I'm wost."

"Huh?" His hand paused on the blonde locks, frozen somewhere near the crown of his head. Being so much older, Kanda had obviously forgotten the dialect of little children, and was at first unable to distinguish the lisping, inarticulate boy. "Um. 'Wost?' You're…_lost_?"

"I want Mommy."

"Whatever." Kanda stood up to his full height, towering in all his 175 centimeters above the little boy. "Sorry, but I don't have the time to help you."

"Wanna Mommy."

Kanda ignored the piteous voice, now already hiccupping, and now bordering on frantic tears. "I said, I don't have the time to help you, kid. Go and bother someone else."

With that, he quickly turned and left, stepping over the child and walking off before his conscience forced himself to pick up a helpless case he did not want nor need. He was, however, aware of the wet, blue-eyed stare that burned into his back, and shuddered, increasing his pace several fold, although he knew it looked strange.

_The akuma had attacked in a huge mass. So many were there, and attacked in never-ending waves of death that they had no time to breathe and recuperate. It was as if the akuma were laying siege to the small auditorium they and the other exorcists were holed up in. _

His footsteps sped up, almost unconsciously, as he continued down the length of the hallway. Blue eyes, so achingly but meaninglessly familiar, seemed to follow him; even though he by now should have already put a sufficient distance between the child and himself. He learned before, through sorrow and anguish, that unrewarded tasks should never be taken on, for fear of disappointment in oneself that must follow if it failed to be accomplished. Altruism said more about the human spirit than he cared to know about.

_The ceiling cracked and dropped pieces of painted plaster on their heads among with dust, as they were assailed on all sides, even from above. They had already lost the seven finders that had been there to help secure the concert hall. At first they had been able to hold the lobby, but were then pushed into the hall itself, as the exorcists out there had fallen to several level two akuma that had suddenly smashed through the walls. Most of the patrons had been evacuated through the exits in the waiting rooms, but only to meet thier fates at the machine guns of the akuma awaiting outside. _

It wasn't until he was near the junction leading to the next car when he slowed his quick walk, unconsciously dragging his feet, which had suddenly felt weighted down with a heaviness akin to lead, until he came to a complete stop. Blank eyes stared at the door of the car where his compartment was with a vague sense of recognition, but Kanda made no move to enter.

_Rabi was bleeding from a gash on his face, and Kanda himself was no better, with several broken ribs from being thrown against the wall by an akuma. They were, for the most part, useless in the face of their first battle, frozen helplessly in place by the shock. The screams of those being gunned down pierced the air, vibrating in the concert hall with a terrible intensity, due to the excellent resonance of the walls. _

His hand froze on the doorknob, trembling. A child so small, not even four, would be unprotected and alone, weak to defend himself against anyone who wanted to take advantage of his vulnerability and hurt or kidnap him. Or perverts even. The child was a pretty little boy, a pedophile's dream come true with huge eyes and soft skin. Even more, he had noticed that the child was dressed well in a little velvet jacket, and would no doubt be able to be held for a very high ransom. "Hmph." He snarled irritably under his breath, with a growing sense of anxiety that he tried to repress. It was, after all, none of his business; He was an exorcist, not a babysitter.

_Vienna was known for its music; Where a full orchestra had played just an hour earlier now boomed the crackling of the akuma's stars flying through the air, and the pained cries of the dying. The symphony of death had just begun. All of it was amplified by the hall, and he thought that his ears would not be able to take it any more. _

Almost as if in a dream, so slow and unconscious his motion was, Kanda spun on his heel and retraced his steps, quickening his pace as he went. The child's blue eyes had been almost an insult, becoming so unsightly a reminder of an older, certain sleeping white-haired exorcist who had the same round eyes with the exact shade of unearthly blue. Had the brat's eyes been like that when he was small?

_What good would money do in the face of death? Richly dressed people dashed for the exits, hampering the exorcists' ability to fight for fear of killing those they needed to protect. Brand-name purses, furs, golden cuff links, and other such items of luxury were left behind in the mad dash, littering the seats, floors, and even stage in all their wasted splendor. _

But he couldn't leave those who needed his help as an exorcist. He wanted to kill the akuma, but also wanted to save them too. Can an exorcist not do both?

_And then he saw it, the mass of akuma that had somehow even infiltrated the backstage dressing rooms, creating a large hole in the black priests' defenses. _

_But it was too late, as hundreds of people suddenly vanished before his streaming eyes in a storm of star-shaped bullets that showered down from above, bringing forth the calamity of the akuma. _

They couldn't. At that time he could only choose one or the other. As it was, neither was enough. It never was.

He knew how the Beansprout felt now, and his speed increased by far, almost a light run, as he maneuvered the train's hallways. Boys didn't cry, his stern father had said soberly before when he was no higher than a chair, but that had been the last thing on his mind back then. Rabi had cried too. Both boys had been lost in the despair and death that they had so suddenly been exposed to. He remembered how it was like to see people suffering, and how it ripped the heart apart from the inside, the helpless sensation of being unable to help them. Also, the desperate want to protect everything, but knowing that a person's mere existence is just one grain of sand in an infinite hourglass.

_"Let go, let me go! They're going to get killed!" Rabi's arms held him back, locked in an iron grip around his waist. "Don't let those people go out there! There's akuma there!" _

And then he saw the small blonde child, exactly where he had left him. The little boy was crouched pitifully near the wall, menaced by several rough-looking men, who were discussing, in hushed voices, how much his parents would be willing to pay for his safe return. One even went as far as to harshly cuff the boy on the cheek, and then laugh as he burst into desperate tears with all the amplitude of a hurricane, that Kanda winced and tried to keep himself from covering his ears.

_With all the strength of fury pumping through him, Kanda tore himself away from his partner—no, his friend, the redhead had been a friend for weeks already—and unsheathed mugen, running two fingers along the curving, cutting side of the blade. "Invocate innocence!" He roared, feeling a fire that he had never experienced before running through his veins, tempered by adrenaline and driven by emotion, especially that of cold anger. "Kaichuu, ichigen! Bugs of the Underworld!" _

Kanda's fists were hard and punishing, easily making quick work of the men with his previous experience in judo and karate-do from his early days in Japan. Like a graceful dance, he easily worked his movements in circles around their frenzied attacks, all the while dealing them blows. Pulling mugen scabbard and all from his hip, he cracked the hilt into one large hulking brute's face, and reversed it, slamming the butt of the scabbard into his stomach, knocking him into his other comrades.

_The illusion-cast projectiles slammed in a full, ferocious wave into the akuma, meeting them head-on and overcoming the first bunch. Like the swelling of an ocean, they crashed back into the mass of akuma, pushing the entirety of enemies back a bit. It bought a little time for Rabi to invocate his fire sermon. _

"You rabble are not fit for my katana to draw your blood." He stated coldly, trying to be as dignified as possible while awkwardly picking up the now whimpering little boy. He had never been one for cuddling, and holding and calming a small child was more difficult than it looked, as he found out. He had a newfound respect for mothers, being able to hold those squirming little bundles of trouble and managing to keep them safe. However, he thought darkly, there was one very irresponsible woman out there who had lost this child.

_He had seen Rabi's horror-struck face when the full impact of what they had just done hit them with full force. The green eyes, one masked with blood, were deadened and pained; they mirrored his own shock. Stunned. Silently screaming. Awestruck. Completely in denial, on what a horrible deed they had just accomplished together, in taking a life. An akuma was an akuma, but nonetheless, the soul that was crucified and bound within was still living, no matter how corrupt it had gotten from the Earl's manipulations and monopolization. They had received the last rites of initiation with their first extermination, becoming full-out exorcists of the black order, existing only to kill akuma, and protect those who needed to be protected._

_At the young age of twelve, they had gotten their first kills, in a small, destructed concert hall in Vienna. The gash had never been fully repaired on Rabi's face, and eventually the eye had to be taken out, as incurable harm had been done to the retina. The damage was irreversible, and doctors said that he would be plagued by pain there for the rest of his life. Phantom pain –the body would often compensate for what it lacked, by using the nociception memory of what it once had, and in Rabi's case the broken nerves' sensation receptors would still 'feel' the pain where there was in actuality nothing. Worst of all was that his perception of depth would also be affected. But still, Kanda received little comfort in knowing that he had gotten off easily with little injury-if little it may have been considered. Kanda's own torso had been shattered, and two petals dropped from his lotus flower. But time eventually healed all battle wounds from that day. _

Kanda protectively held the kid close, feeling the small hands fist themselves tightly into his exorcist's cloak, and the blonde head bury itself into where his cross was. It got it wet, but he made no move to stop him. Being in such close proximity with another living being frankly startled him, and somewhat made Kanda nervous. The feeling of almost losing something had settled in, and for once he thanked God that he had meddled in something that was obviously not his business. Children, he had to grudgingly admit, were the most precious of all of God's gifts, despite being selfish, dependent, demanding little things that did nothing but whine and cry. But they should whine and cry when they could, when they were still children. Because perhaps they would never get the chance to do that again, for the rest of their lives.

_At the age of twelve, they had lost all the innocence normally associated with childhood. At the age of twelve they had been men, fighting alongside the adults to save a world which they saw as their enemies for the sake of safety, regarding with suspicion all humans simply because of the possibility that anyone could become an akuma. It was a cold, cruel world fraught with danger and other things they didn't want to see, never thought they'd had to see. So harsh. They didn't know that heroism didn't exist on the battlefield. It was death's territory, and death did not share willingly with any other thing. Life had no place there. It was a cold reality, to their warm little hearts beating fast with the idealistic notions of being heroes. _

_And correspondingly, Kanda allowed himself to ice over as well. _


	15. Ace

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-Man.

Author's note: Warning- major OOC. On Ticky's and Allen's part, maybe. I wrote this at midnight, after a particularly stressful day. Since I'm going on vacation on tuesday, this may be the last or one of the last updates I make for the summer. I don't know if I'll have access to a computer with internet when I'm overseas, and thus I'm not sure if I'll be able to update until I come back...which is in early september.

Ace ♥

4:12AM, Train

From the caboose to, much to his embarrassment, the women's room, the little child had insisted that he search everywhere. In the latter place, Kanda had been thrown out with screams and pelted with numerous curious objects, including an ice-pick heeled stiletto (ouch) and an open compact that left trails of white where the powder had hit his face. Searching for a single mother was worse than searching for innocence.

It was only after nearly an hour or two of looking when the child finally spotted her, the woman raising a storm of tears fit to wake up the dead, and sending out search parties of dutiful porters to look for the troublesome little brat. He would have yelled at her if he had the opportunity. But unfortunately, Kanda was unable to berate the mother, as he was too smothered with kisses and was pressed into ample lolling breasts that squeezed uncomfortably against his reddening face. Showing such a form of thanks made him embarrassed and he scuttled away to the safety of his own compartment, all thoughts of yelling at her dismissed. Women were all the same, he had decided. Overemotional. The woman had cried, hard and furiously, and he did not envy the child, who would most likely suffocate in her embrace.

Rabi's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets, and his jaw seemingly was dislocated, unable to return to its normal closed position. Doing an excellent impression of a guppy, he continued staring at his sullen friend, a stare so intense and disbelieving that the other was inclined to smack him hard in the face. "Uh, Yuu-chan?" He stammered quietly, so as not to wake up the sleeping Allen. "What was that again?"

"I said, I found a kid and had to find his mother." The black-haired exorcist scowled, sounding irritable at having to repeat himself for the umpteenth time over and his eyes lashed out with fury, ready to murder something or someone. The search had taken him much longer than he had thought, as the child's mother was described as being a blonde wearing a red dress, red lipstick, and carrying a red bag…which accounted for half the women on the train, since red seemed to be in fashion.

"All that time looking, and you didn't get the lil' kid's name! And that still doesn't explain the lipstick marks all over your collar." Rabi pressed, not without a good deal of teasing humor. "And here I was, thinking that you were gay because you weren't interested in girls…."

"I'm not interested in anyone." Kanda hissed. "It was just that the mother was a little more than happy to get him back. Damn Europeans, I'll never get them and their open displays of emotion."

Kanda snorted derisively under his breath, as he attempted to wipe the collar of his cape free of the disgusting red marks. The shallowness of making oneself lovely was something he had scorned all his life, and he never saw why women insisted on using lip paints to color themselves some artificial crimson shade.

He also loathed such shows of affection and joy, as hugs, kisses, and caresses seemed completely unnecessary and a waste of time to him. He was not reared to be a man of many emotions, his household in his native Japan being austere and strict under the leadership of his samurai father. It was considered a breach of etiquette in Japan to be so free in emotions at times. Love was not something to be openly discussed, for one, and the word itself was not used when addressing a beloved one. Instead, the much more milder form for such a feeling would be expressed, using the word 'like,' rather than love. Perhaps it did not do the emotion justice, using such a downplayed word to describe it, but Kanda was more at ease with that, and often found the openness of others from different nationalities absurd. The directness disturbed and disgusted him all at once, and he often wondered why people couldn't be more sensible and just _shut up_.

He was no romantic, and was quite content without any such foolhardy notions like that, but he believed such a word pure and genuine in all its great meaning should not be freely thrown around and abused. It was so pure that it needed not even be spoken about.

"Yuu-chan? What are you thinking about? You've got that constipated look on your face that says that you have something on your mind." Rabi said simply, eyeing him.

"Nothing." Kanda growled back. "Did the brat read the stuff about the mission?"

"Aa. He was up a little while after you left. But…" The bookman-in-training, not noticing Kanda's abrupt change in topic, lowered his voice to a soft whisper. "…Yuu-chan, he's not in any condition to really move. The internal bleeding's worse than I thought. That water tank was full and it was metal, and Beansprout-chan's been worn out lately. I know he's sorta daft, but there's a limit to stupidity, y'know. Beansprout-chan might not be very careful, but he's still competent, and certainly good with his arm."

"But when we were in Matel, he fell through the ceiling and still was able to fight." Kanda snapped harshly.

"He can walk, but the use of his arm's limited, y'know, since he would need to move his torso. Or he can stick to that cannon-like attack of his arm's-that is if his body can stand invocating it." Rabi explained with a sigh. "There are no medics in Vienna, I think."

"Just leave him behind then. Crowley's coming to Vienna a little later on, isn't he, due to the change in schedule. He'll be fresh and still in full health, and will regenerate easily. At least he wouldn't slow us down."

"What!"

Kanda stared, annoyed, at his red-haired friend. "I said, leave him behind. Che, I've already told him before that if he is a burden to me, I'll abandon him."

"Look, Yuu-chan, that isn't very nice, and I think that-"

"It's alright. I don't mind." A quiet voice, drowsy and very small-sounding, came from the opposite seat.

"Beansprout-chan…" Rabi stammered.

"It's alright." Allen clumsily pulled himself up to a sitting position, and rubbed at his eyes, opening one to stare at the two of them. "I'll catch up on my own anyhow, just at a slower pace. I don't intend on being a burden to anyone."

His voice had hardened during the last sentence, and Kanda could not help but recognize the strength behind it, the iron will that was bigger than the Beansprout himself.

"Heh. Don't say things you don't mean, Beansprout." He replied harshly, eyeing him coldly.

"_Yakusoku sa._" The Beansprout said. "It's a promise, then."

Kanda watched him get up from the seat, holding on to the wall to keep from being thrown off balance by the vibrations of the running train. He saw the little winces of pain the other made, as he stumbled towards the door. But still, Kanda made no move to help, instead only continuing to watch with his stone-faced expression.

Their eyes met, blue with dark brown, and for an instant then, Kanda was captivated. The similarities between those eyes and that of the blonde child were striking, perhaps too much so. He had always thought that there was something saddening about Allen, though, a sort of melancholy that hung in an aura around his being. Somehow, it was touchingly reflected in those wide blue eyes, in a sort of vagueness that shadowed whatever true feelings they held. It reminded him of a beaten animal, perhaps a puppy, or a kitten, some little frail creature that would otherwise be cheerful and hyperactive. Then, white hair fell across the other's abruptly lowered face, breaking the long stare and Kanda's revelation as well. The light strands flew slightly back from Allen's expressionless face, catching and holding the dim dawn light that peeped in from the windows.

Kanda turned away; there was something inexpressibly haunting about those blue eyes, and he preferred not to dwell on it any longer. He instead gave his attention to the scenery flashing past his eyes, of the beautiful Austrian countryside. Everything was anointed with dew and the soft, slightly muted crimson-gold hues of the pale dawn, wrapped in a soft gentle breeze that held none of the wet ferocity of that the night before. The sleeping forests were awakening with the whispering sounds of morning life, and the early beams of the sun crossed in a transverse cutting through the pale horizon. The light mist that covered where sky met earth was reminiscent of a butterfly's translucent wings, merging it so that there was no division, nothing but heaven all around to be seen. But the ubiquity did not seem commonplace, instead becoming ethereal and mysterious. He reveled in the natural beauty, and it brought calm and zen to his unsettled heart. But as the train roared past the countryside, disturbing the peace and quiet, he spotted a serene lake, shining blue and retaining the sun's rays in its sparkling depths. His good mood was quickly drawn to an end.

Kanda hated blue. He had used to like it when he was a little boy, since it was the color of the infinite sky, and the sea which surrounded his homeland. It was his most un-favorite color now.

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It was only after Allen got into the bathroom that she started hyperventilating, due to worrying what could have happened while she had been sleeping. At that time, slumber had been such a tempting choice, and it was much easier to fade off into unconsciousness than to bear Kanda's snide slighting and Rabi's worried attentions. Thinking on it a good while later, Allen decided that it had been a terribly stupid choice, since she had no control over dreams or God forbid, nightmares even. Waking up screaming and crying would no doubt arouse Kanda's disgust at her weakness, and Rabi's anxiety. Moreover, the questions that would follow would be difficult to answer, and she had no explanation that would be logical and acceptable. Allen sighed, and shook her head groggily; sometimes her own stupidity- or lack of concise thought, as she preferred to call it- amazed her. She wondered how she had managed it, simply falling and injuring herself so early in the mission, and dozing off in the presence to two _male_ exorcists who had dressed her wounds on her _stomach_. Needless to say, the day was already bad enough, and could only get worse. It was little consolation to her that her injury would not hinder the mission _overly_ much, since Crowley was going to arrive at Vienna a little later, as reinforcement.

Eyes crusty from sleep, bad breath, and worse temper were some of many things Allen was afflicted to in the morning. Rinali was lucky- the older girl could easily pull off being beautiful first thing in the morning, when everyone was half-asleep, including Allen herself. Allen could not even be _cute. _She scowled, clutching her beating heart. It took several minutes for her to regain her normal steady breathing, so worried she had been.

The bathroom lights made her reflection in the mirror look too wanton and waifish, emphasizing just how thin she had gotten lately, even with the bulk of her exorcist's cloak. The damage to her stomach looked worse than it felt-a little internal bleeding would not hurt her much. Or so she thought, but her usually pale stomach was turning purple and other nasty dark colors that she was sure had no right to be there. The bandages on her stomach had slipped slightly, and did not entirely cover it up. She felt like some sort of ancient Egyptian mummy, her entire torso being wrapped in bandages. Allen pulled her shirt back down after inspecting it, gingerly so as not to brush up against her wounds.

Her face felt sticky and numb; Sleeping in full makeup was something she absolutely hated, since it gave her skin a dry, caked feel to it. The oily texture of the stuff she used was none too good either, and irritated her skin. Moreover, it gave her a sense of vulnerability, since she would always have to reapply it to make herself look more like a boy. The men's room had a mirror that was much too small for her liking, and no makeup table to spread her necessities out on.

After brushing her teeth and slapping herself twice on the cheeks for added awakening, Allen peered in the mirror, and was relieved to see that her eyebrows still looked like eyebrows, and not messy, smeared lines. Penciling her otherwise arching brows in proved difficult, since she needed to make them look thicker and more masculine, not feathery and gently arching like a girl's. She scanned the bathroom for anyone looking, and found that it was empty, much to her relief. Grabbing a towel from a neat stack on a counter, she quickly soaked it in a little water from the tap and blotted her cheeks with it. It came away the color of the foundation she used, a very pale, nearly white shade, as well as several other colors of the highlights and shadings that she used. Once finished with drying her face, she applied a light layer of foundation and quickly reconstructed her image with several skillful swipes of her brush, dipping into the little pots of makeup that she always carried for missions. The brush was of a lightweight fur head, with a nice metal handle- a most worthy investment, although expensive, especially since she had very little pay as an exorcist, room and board being provided by the Black Order.

Finally patting powder over her face to set the look in place, the exorcist gave her reflection a cursory look. With a sigh, she looked at the lack of pressed powder remaining in her compact, and shut the silver clasp together with a click.

"Wah, it's almost empty." She moaned. Keeping up a male appearance was expensive as it was time-consuming, and cosmetics did not come cheap, nor did she really have the time to leave the tower and buy more. At the very least she was able to palm bandages from the hospital wings to bind her chest with, reducing by much some of the otherwise very high costs of everyday living.

The exorcist forced a grin onto her face; smiling was scientifically proven to lift one's mood, as Mana had said long ago, when she was a four-year old crying over a skinned knee, suffered from when older boys had pushed her. "Smile, and you'll feel better." She repeated aloud and obediently, giving herself a long stare in the mirror. "I'm an exorcist, and I'm certain of the path I must take." She grinned, almost sheepishly, at saying something so corny and ridiculous, and of people to nobody but her reflection, and in the bathroom of all places.

Tucking the makeup kit into a small drawstring bag and stuffing it inside a pocket, Allen gave herself one last look, and left the washroom, flinging open the door…and bumbling straight into a hard, warm surface.

"Ow!" Clutching her bruised stomach at the sharp searing sensation that suddenly assailed it, she fell backwards and sank to the floor, wincing in pain. A hand shot down and grabbed her arm, yanking her roughly back up to her feet. Allen stared at it. It was a hand gloved in white silk, and connected to a black coat sleeve, complete with cuff link and all, which followed up to a terrifyingly familiar, dark-skinned face, and a very unpleasant smile that even now sent shivers down her spine.

"Ticky." She stated, her voice more of a growl than anything. "I should have known- Going to Vienna to join the akuma, are we?"

"Now, now, now…is that any way to greet an old acquaintance?" The tall, impeccably dressed man's said slickly, his suave voice as smooth as his well-oiled hair. "So we meet again, Allen Walker."

"Yeah. Let go." She tried to yank her arm away from him, but realized with a rising sense of panic that his grip was too tight, clamping with the strength of iron around her upper arm. "I said, let go!" All her tugging and straining to get away from him seemed to amuse him to no end. His grip merely tightened on her arm, heightening her overpowering fear that was blended with annoyance and a want to smash his face in.

"Dammit, get your hands off me!" She snapped, stomping hard on one of his toes and elbowing him in the gut.

"My, my." Ticky smiled down at him, a white-toothed grin that lacked any warmth whatsoever. "What nasty language, tsk tsk. Quite unproper for a young lady like yourself."

Ticky deftly caught the feeble punch she threw with her innocence-embedded hand, and twisted it behind her back. His hands compressed her wrists, and she could almost feel his nails raking through his gloves and biting through cloth to cut her skin. Allen gasped, the pain in her bruised stomach and ribs making her grimace, as well as the feeling of having her wrists slowly crushed.

"Ow…you're hurting me!" She cried softly, glaring up at him.

"Is there any reason why I shouldn't…Miss Walker?" His voice, soft and saccharine with a frightening serpentine silkiness, caressed her ear. She tried to move her head away, as his breath carried a stench of stale cigarette smoke, no doubt from his 'white' persona.

"Miss Walker!" She snapped at him, with a confidence she did not feel. The feel of sleep had not left her yet and she was cantankerous and touchy, not without good reason since her neck hurt from sleeping on the seats and her stomach was bruised. "Give me a break. And try brushing your teeth once in a while, you need it."

"Spoken like a true woman."

Dumbfounded, she stared at him, sputtering and glowering, but unable to get a word out. If Ticky knew, her disguise was completely blown, and there was no need for it any more, if the earl knew of her true identity. She had no masquerade to veil herself with, which meant less safety for her. "H-how—wha—"

The sense of vulnerability crashed upon her with full force, as well as the knowledge that all the pains and troubles she went through each day had been completely unnecessary. The enemy had found out…why or how was not quite the issue at hand, but she was dumbfounded all the same. Walls had ears, the night had eyes, and dangers lurked in the shadows- had she been not careful enough? First Hebraska, and now, much to her great embarrassment and fury, Ticky. And no doubt the Earl, Rhode, Skin Boric, and the Jasdavid twins, and just about every akuma out there. If she was able to, she would have crawled into a hole and just gone to sleep, never to wake up to look anyone in the eye again. However, there was no hole, and no way she could easily get out of her current predicament.

The thought of being so helpless rejuvenated her with a defiance, which was only fired up by the Ticky's predatory smile. As swift as she could with her injury, Allen ripped the clasps on the front of her cloak open, and easily shrugged out of the sleeves, for once being grateful that it was a little too big on her. Predictably, as she guessed he would, Ticky stepped backwards, away from her as she retreated to the other side of the bathroom, inching closer to the door. But he did not spring for her instead and let go of her uniform as she would have thought he would have.

"Damn…" she muttered under her breath, eyeing her uniform, clenched in a rumpled ball in his hands, and her gaze shot sideways to the door. The bathroom was not large, and invocating her innocence would not be the best idea. The incident at the church a few days ago still weighed like a stone upon her conscience, and one more occurrence like that would completely render her wallet empty, since Komui had warned that half of all damages were to be paid by her. Which made one-fourth of an old and venerable church that had irreplaceable relics and historical value. The men's room was not a very posh place, but it was certainly slightly more on the high-end side and would cost a pretty penny that could have gone into her makeup expenses, had she seen fit to gun Ticky down with her projectile-launching attack or skewer him on her transformed lance-like arm. All of those objectives seemed quite appealing to her at the moment, but reason and the thought of Komui's wrath denied her the pleasure of doing them, as did Ticky's annoying voice.

"It wouldn't be a good idea to invocate your innocence in here, missy," he said, with a dangerous soft voice that bespoke nothing good for her. "After all, there are many innocents on this train, and starting a full-out fight would not be to your best interests. You do want to protect as many people as possible, don't you?"

"One, give me my clothes. Two, don't call me missy." Allen sniped back, sounding a lot more impolite, talkative and confident than she did so early in the morning and without a cup of English tea or breakfast to bolster her energy. "three--"

"All the trimming on this coat is made of silver, right?" Ticky sounded amused, as he lightly shook the article of clothing at her. "And your precious…feminine supplies, so as to say. I'm sure that mink brush was not cheap? I'll play a game with you, if you really want them back."

"I don't feel like losing in poker." She stated with all the frigidness of one of Kanda's expressions. She watched as he procured a set of cards out of nowhere, and easily shuffled them. "And I beat you last time. Perhaps you can do me a favor and return my stuff back as I did yours, but such civility can't be expected of one of the earl's men, right?"

"You're certainly more of a little harridan than I thought, in private." Ticky commented lightly, giving her a long stare. "You're not acting like Allen Walker, really. I've always wondered if that was your real name, since you were a girl and all. Not that I really found out until after the Earl mentioned it to me yesterday, but…"

"That is my name. As you know, I take a male appearance. So…are you here to finish me off, or is it just a game?" Allen wondered how the Earl had known, but decided that fending off Ticky was the bigger issue at hand.

"What an uncute kid. I should have finished you off that time when I inserted my butterfly into you. Pity you didn't die. And for your information, I'm can't start a fight on the train since I need to get to Austria, and we're only halfways there. If I fought with you now, no doubt the train would be wrecked and we'd never get there."

His logic made her wince. Allen did not think it was fair to only blame her destructive tendencies when she made full use of her arm. _Nyoibo_ and _Mugen_ were also big on breaking things, too.

"Your little butterfly punched a huge, gaping HOLE in my heart." Somehow, she found that she was fiercer when playing poker than in any other situation, including when quarreling with Kanda. Perhaps what spurred her were the horrific scenarios that would occur if she failed, since her gambling days originated from the necessity of paying off Cross's debts.

Allen was aware of him dogging her steps as she attempted to lead the way back to her car. "Um…this way." She stalked down the length of the train, jaw set and her left hand twitching to invocate. The cross embedded in it burned, aching to be released in all its full power.

"That way is to the boiler room." The tall, well-dressed Noah informed her, with the slightest hint of a smirk.

"There are only so many ways one can go on a train." She muttered under her breath, turning on her heel and trying to keep the angry flush from rising to her cheeks. And so many ways one can kill a person, she added mentally. Instead, she gave him a sheepish smile that was so superficial that she nearly choked on its sweetness. "Would you like to help me find my cabin then?"

Allen was met with a long, hard stare, which seemed almost comical seeing as it was on the face of one of her enemies. She looked at him quizzically as he sighed dramatically, and rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache.

"Women. They're all the same. And I wondered why I didn't realize you were female earlier...geez, you're worse than Rhode, even…she and her procrastination in doing homework that's due the next day will kill me, if you don't first…"

She didn't know whether he was insulting her or not. Somehow, homework and Rhode did not fit well together in her mind, the former being too _harmless,_ so as to say, as she was reminded of how the spoiled girl had nailed her and Miranda's arms to a wall. Allen was leery of him walking behind her, since it gave him the opportunity to stab her in the back, if he wanted to. Being enemies, the mutual, grudging cease-fire was liable to be broken any moment. Her mind worked as quickly as it could under the pressure of the situation, thinking on why Ticky had wanted to have a game with her, so abruptly as well.

"Allen, duck!" All of a sudden, she saw a huge, circular surface of wood coming straight at her-the bottom of Rabi's mallet, she realized with a sickening feeling. But without a choice, she sank to the floor, giving a small yelp when she did it too fast and her stomach throbbed in protest.

Almost as if expecting it, Ticky had retreated several steps backwards, avoiding the blow by a fraction of an inch. "_Yare yare_. That was close."

Rabi looked livid, his one green eye sparkling with malice and his lips pulled back in a snarl. "Beansprout-chan! What the hell do you think you're doing letting your guard down around the enemy!" he roared at her, making her recoil a bit.

"Um…he wants to have a game with me?" she said meekly, pointing at her uniform, which Ticky still held. "After all, I can't work as an exorcist without that cross, and I didn't have a spare." And my precious makeup, she thought grimly.

The redhead's glower softened a bit. "A game you say as in poker? You're good, right?"

She nodded her head vigorously. "Just a game. Of course, the fight's yet to come when we reach Vienna though…" she said darkly, twitching the fingers on her left hand meaningfully. "But Komui would kill us if I blew up a second thing in one week, and if you got dragged into the fray, we'd have to replace the entire train. After all the last time you used a mallet to fight in the tower, you killed Komui's room…"

"One game." The bookman said warningly, his voice laced with quiet killing intent as he glanced at Ticky. "You leave after you get your ass beaten in cards by him, got it?"

"We'll see who will win, Allen Walker. You may be an expert at _deception_, but you can't fool my eyes for long."

"I told you I always win, no matter how many times I play." Allen replied, her tone arch and guarded. As Rabi led the correct way towards their cabin, however, she could not help but be aware of the hidden meaning behind it, not to mention Ticky's lazy grin. The white-haired girl flexed her fingers unconsciously, preparing for the upcoming battle of cards she was about to wage. So the spider wove its net, tighter and tighter. Perhaps she had finally gotten herself entangled in her web of lies.

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There was no sound, just that of the train's rumbling as it brought them ever closer to their destination. There were only two more hours to go, but the exorcist had great faith in her own skills and believed that she would be able to reclaim all of her possessions in two or three game, providing that she didn't have to get her makeup back piece by piece.

Allen was aware of all eyes on her, from Rabi's single one to Kanda's dark glimmering obsidian pupils. From across the floor, Ticky leered at her, since they had decided to use the floor as a table. Cross-legged, she merely folded her hands in her lap and waited for Rabi to finish shuffling. Her last game with Ticky had been different, since he had tag-teamed with several other players to sucker Crowley. He had two or three confederates the other time to conspire with, but this time he was a lone man, and from the looks of it, the cards were not going to be rigged since they had both duly agreed to let Rabi shuffle and deal, as the redhead had no previous playing experience. Now, Rabi was not a good hand with cards, seeing as he had managed to drop the deck twice already, and scatter them all over the floor.

"Not my problem. It's _your_ uniform, Beansprout." Kanda had simply said when she informed him of the situation. But Allen felt his hard burning gaze on her, a look that was tempered by a little curiosity if she would say so herself. His surveillance only added to her determination to win. Rabi on the other hand looked excited, as he dealt out the cards with a flourish, no doubt wanting to see her trounce the other man as she had done a while ago when they were returning from Crowley's mansion to the headquarters.

Allen took the cards, and inspected them, subtly giving their backs a glance. Last time, since Ticky had dealt, the deck had been cut to his advantage. But this time-her eyes, trained from years of paying off Cross's debts- zeroed in like a hawk onto its prey on the cheating method. Simply put, the deck had been marked previously, and in a very common way. The ace in her clutches now was marked at roughly where one would be on a clock, and when checking her cards over, she found that they had all been marked as according to time. Allen grinned; she had to give him credit, since the marks were tiny, and her sharp eyes had barely been able to pick it up.

She smiled. It was not a nice smile, holding all the maliciousness of devil's spawn. Even Rabi shuddered. "Ne, Allen, so that's your true side…" he yipped nervously, giving her a look.

"I told you last time I'm very good at this, that's all." _And I cheat. _She said lightly, with an evil chuckle. The exorcist, using the edge of her pinky's nail, began adding more and more marks to her cards, randomly so as to render the marks already there useless, as the cheater would not be able to distinguish what mark it was.

She had perfected her sleight of hand, and it had always been her best cheat, ever since Master Cross had taught her the art of switching cards. A few minutes later, she gave her opponent an innocent smile. "Call." She said sweetly, showing him her hand- a straight flush.

Ticky's expression did not waver, but he showed her his four of a kind, and allowed Timcanpi to retrieve the makeup bag which he removed from her cloak's pocket. "Don't get so smug-your uniform's still with me."

"Not for much longer."

And thus the second round began.

♥

With all their posturing, Kanda decided as he looked on with a bored air, they could have been finishing up the game. Going so far as to play a game was completely unusual and unexpected for someone like Ticky, but as far as he was concerned, Kanda didn't care. It was after all not his uniform, and he could care less about the Beansprout.

But still, he kept his eyes trained on said exorcist, watching his every move, his sharp eyes observing. He had always expected that Allen was an unlucky boy, being cursed and as far as he knew, an orphan who had been adopted by some single man.

His hands were abnormally quick, and it was only after a very long time until Kanda noticed what he was up to, since the fingers moved so fast and seamlessly smooth that the motions nearly went unseen. From the time he picked up the cards, it seemed as if Allen had undergone a complete change, a sudden professional manner befalling his usual expression.

But as the boy reared up on his legs to slap down another winning hand, Kanda saw it. Two cards, a queen and an ace, slipped out of Allen's back pocket to drift unnoticed by him onto the ground. Kanda twitched, and eyed the boy's posterior where more high-value cards peeped out of the pocket.

"What an idiot." He grumbled softly. Putting them back in was out of the question, given where the pocket was located. He sure as hell did not want to be accused for accidentally groping another boy, even if the boy had skin like a girl. He brought his fingers up to his face, and stared at them, rubbing the roughened pads together. He had been aware of the contrast between the soft texture of the obnoxious Beansprout's skin and his own, and wondered how it was humanly possible to be like that.

"Oi, Beansprout."

"What?" Flushed with victory and smiling, Allen looked back at him where he sat.

"Sit down. And stay down. You're too noisy."

"You still hate my type don't you?" the younger exorcist muttered as he did so, unwittingly right upon the cards that he had dropped, as Kanda had expected him to, much to his relief so Ticky would not be able to detect him cheating.

"Exactly." Kanda watched with gradually lessening irritation as the game continued. However, that was before the trouble started, and he watched with an odd sense of anxiety that was most unusual for him, as Allen sneaked his hand backwards, and slipped a card from his back pocket into his sleeve. With a slight whip of the wrist, the exchange had taken place, and the _queen_ in his sleeve replaced another card in his hand.

As he looked at the now switched hand, Allen suddenly froze, his back stiffening almost imperceptibly. No doubt he was expecting the king that was lying on the floor, but it was too late. From where he was behind the white-haired exorcist, Kanda managed to see without looking too curious the cards the Beansprout had. Even with a wrong card, he had managed to undo some of the damage with some more frantic sleight of hand to get a flush.

However, Ticky had a much better hand, consisting of a full house, as he displayed before Allen's shocked eyes with a flourish.

"No way, Beansprout-chan. You actually lost!" Rabi expressed his astonishment loudly and with a hint of anxiety.

Allen's eyebrows twitched, and knitted. "It's only a fluke. I always win." He stated, matter-of-factly. Timcanpi seemed to nod its little golden head in agreement.

Kanda could only watch on. He could not help but feel a speck of anxiety. That was, only a bit, since anything the Beansprout did didn't concern him at all, after all. But still, as he saw Allen remove his vest and toss it to Ticky, he decided that the boy had a penchant for getting into trouble he had trouble getting out of, as this event clearly stated. Kanda had thought for a split second of a moment with the first victory that perhaps the accursed brat was not such bad luck as he would have otherwise thought, but this clearly proved him wrong. He had been right after all, and Kanda's already inflated head simply puffed up a little more with that knowledge.

Allen looked a little more disturbed, now, he observed, especially since his winning streak had been disrupted, and he was forced to strip off something, now increasing the amount of things he had to reclaim. But he gamely took his cards, being the stubborn little twerp that Kanda thought he was, with a determined look on his face, one not unlike that which he had when they were on a mission in Matel. That was perhaps one of the worst missions Kanda had ever had in his life, since the brat insisted on protecting a doll, of all things, from which they were supposed to get the innocence from. As it was, the mission had been completed, but not before both of them had been injured and battered due to Allen's impulsive actions. Recklessness and courage were definitely not the Beansprout's redeeming traits, no matter how attractive some may find the latter, and as for the former…Kanda was sure human stupidity could not stretch _that_ far.

"Hmph." Was all he said, as Allen was forced to fold, his cheating methods having been completely devastated by the sudden drop of two measly cards. Two measly cards that no doubt held the futures of two winning games, and his vest.

"Beansprout-chan, what's wrong?" Rabi moaned, not helping the situation by much. "You played so well the other time, when you got Crowley's things back!"

"A fluke." Allen merely repeated hoarsely, although to Kanda's view, he did not look so sure of himself anymore.

"Beansprout-chan, maybe you shouldn't push it any more, you don't need your uniform since you have that eye, and don't need to wait to be attacked…"

"Is that so, Beansprout-_chan_?" Ticky suddenly interrupted, putting a heavy emphasis on the honorific attached to his name. Strangely, Allen seemed to shudder when he said it, and glared at him. "Is that what they call you, Allen?"

"We're not familiar, and we're enemies, so please don't address me with '-chan.'" He snapped back, his voice surprisingly terse.

"Very well then."

Kanda noticed the predatory gleam in the dark-skinned man's eyes, and his hand closed quietly around mugen's hilt, if only to be on guard, and not for the Beansprout's safety. It was odd, even, the way Ticky eyed Allen, like a crouched wildcat stalking a….bunny? He snorted, the thought of Beansprout the bunny rabbit a little too hard to take even for his stone-faced expression to avoid cracking.

Two rounds later, however, Allen's streak of bad luck had not ended, and he had lost his neck-ribbon, and also a shirt, leaving him in just his last shirt and trousers. Strip poker was brutal, and Kanda's face hardened slightly, although he didn't say a word.

"If you want a handicap, you can have a wild card."

No doubt, to Allen's determined and proud personality, it would have sounded taunting, especially with the mocking note in Ticky's voice. A handicap to such an obviously skilled cheater would be affronting. But to Kanda's surprise, Allen only smiled. A very sweet, poisonous smile that, although he would never say it out loud, was reminiscent of the Earl's. He could practically see the little evil hearts floating around.

"No need for a wild card." He said, eyes glinting. "I don't need a crutch to win."

Kanda could only sigh and grumble in irritation as they started their umpteenth round.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Down to her last shirt, Allen gritted her teeth as a nervous Rabi doled the cards out. Despite her brave words, her confidence was rattled, as was her faith in her cheating skills. Moreover, she had only one shirt on left…and she could not take it off since she couldn't expose her chest.

"Lucky…" she said, keeping her idiotic poker grin on, but she was aware of the sweat beading on the back of her neck, and the way her hands trembled, so hard that she nearly dropped the cards- all of them were lousy; she had been too caught up in repairing her cheating, which should have been flawless given that she had culled the cards she was to hand-muck into the game. Distracted as she had been, Allen had not taken the time to notice if Ticky had been doing any illegal moves of his own. She couldn't be sure, since he couldn't cut the deck with Rabi shuffling, and she had managed to render whatever marked cards she could get useless.

Unless, he was hand-mucking, himself. Her eyes narrowed in on his hands, and the cards which he held in one hand, all fanned out.

"Hmph, why don't you hurry up and finish this?"

Kanda's irritated voice cut roughly into her hearing, loud and with a hint of anger. Allen clenched her jaw, refusing to let her annoyance get the better of her. She willed her ears to close themselves, her eyes to disregard everything, and her fists not to crumple her cards, so tight the tension in her fingers. She was not all sure just whom she would like to strangle more at the moment- either Ticky or Kanda. Infuriating as the latter was, however, he was after all her teammate, and thus not to be killed, maimed, or harmed in any way. And it was common knowledge that Kanda Yuu was a person to keep clear of, if one valued one's sanity. Moreover, she was Allen Walker, the stupid, reckless exorcist with the cursed eye, and therefore had to keep from besmirching the clean image she worked so hard to maintain, superficial as it was. Yet, a small vein pop appeared on her shadowed forehead, and she quietly steamed from the ears. However, nothing in her life could have prepared her for what was coming next, in this no good, very bad, rotten day.

"Beansprout!…Get up on your feet, then, and finish this. What happened to that _idiotic _bravery you had? Feh, I knew there was nothing to you but all talk and no action. As for you--" Eyes the color of cold stone stared at Ticky. "—I want you out soon."

Get up. Allen was sure she had dislocated her own jaw, and could nearly hear the little pop of it falling out of place as surprise overwhelmed everything else. She was positive it had not just been her ears, but Kanda had actually been encouraging her on, although she had not missed the edge to his tone. Get up, and finish this. Coming from the foul mouth of the man she was at odds the most with, it had been the most thoughtful thing he had ever said to her, and frankly, Allen was astonished at his abruptness. Being a person who was concerned with only himself and his own selfish attitude, Kanda supporting her was unexpected. However, it was all too good to be true, as the exorcist found to her great chagrin and displeasure.

"Don't take it to heart though, Beansprout-It's _your_ uniform after all, and is none of _my_ concern."

"God. I give up on him." Allen muttered, turning backwards to give him a peeved glance. Her lower lip jutted out pathetically, and for a split second, a moment in time that was too short to actually be significant, she thought she saw his normally displeased expression waver slightly, to something akin to deep thought. But she was sure that it didn't, as far as she told herself, since it had already reverted back to the same constant stoniness that they all knew.

It was a desperate last bid, she knew. It would be over if Ticky won, her gender exposed, her clothes lost, and perhaps her friendship with Rabi lost as well. Allen could already imagine the shock on the friendly redhead's face, and the disappointment and hurt that she had not trusted him enough to reveal her secret to him. It would feel like betrayal, when she saw that face, and it made her question how true she was as a friend. Kanda she was much less worried about, since their relations could not get worse than they already were. As for everyone else but Hebraska…thinking about it only made it worse, and she could only hope that everyone else was as accepting as he/she had been.

Being rejected and excluded hurt, as she had learned from an early age.

But so as to prevent that from happening, Allen decided to use all her might to influence the outcome, to swing it as close as she could to her favor, no matter the ill winds. Her determination and raw desperation drove her onto the edge of her limits, as she turned back from Kanda to Ticky. While shifting back to face him, she felt something right under her, slipping and sliding on the floor under the seat of her pants.

Cards. Her trump cards, no less.

An ace and a king, no less.

Had Kanda been trying to tell her to get up since she was sitting on something?

Her mind cried out in frustration and irritation at so many unexpected things, and she resolved not to bring it up with Kanda later for fear of being snapped at. But still, Allen smiled, hiding it with her hand, even as she palmed around discreetly for her cards. Her fingers closed around their edges, and she gave Ticky a confident look.

"You have much to improve on." The exorcist informed him archly, with a cheeky grin. "Since you're going _down_."

Simultaneously, she turned her thumb down, towards the floor. Ticky's eyes followed it, and she could feel his sharp gaze scrape along her hand as he watched. Allen was glad it was her innocence-embedded hand, which was gloved.


	16. The Interlude of the Siblings

disclaimer: I do not own D. gray man.

Sorry for the long wait for an update. I just arrived home from my vacation yesterday morning and I was soooo jet lagged. I had planned to upload what little I had wrote when I came home, but just was too tired. School today didn't help matters either. -- However, I didn't really get the chance to work much on this fanfic, since I didn't have much access to a computer that actually worked and didn't crash when loading the Microsoft word document, which has reached over 100 pages, size twelve font. Thanks to my reviewers for the 10 reviews! That's the most I ever got for a chapter.

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16. Interlude of the Siblings ♥

7:00 AM, Komui's office

Her brother was always so disorganized, lacking any of the proper neatness and drive that one would have expected of a genius scientist who was head of a department. The science department, no less; the department for great minds, as due to popular belief. Rinali, shaking her head fondly, straightened the toppling stacks of accumulated work that had been left on his table for him to sign, and relocated his used tissues to where they should have been-the garbage bin. She took the time to refill his coffee mug, and set it in a safe place where it would not 'accidentally' spill and ruin all the sheets and sheets of paperwork, and thus allowing him to conveniently skip working.

"Mou, Nii-san…" she muttered softly. "You're always so messy."

"That's because my darling Rinali-chan is always around to clean up after me." Komui remarked, looking up from a document to peer at her. "I have to say, you spoil me absolutely rotten with brewing my coffee and practically waiting on me."

"No-one makes your roast coffee the way you like it but me. So I have to be around, don't I?" Rinali said casually, eyeing his now much cleaner desktop with a satisfied air. She sighed, and walked to the window, pushing aside the shutters and looking out almost wistfully. Komui caught the hint of longing that glinted from within the chocolate depths of her eyes, and he in turn just shook his head.

"Oniisan….have you ever been in love?" Rinali asked, almost innocently and wonderingly, not noticing that he had cringed slightly behind her turned back, as she stared at the sunrise.

"Eh?...What makes you ask that?" Komui said nervously, with a wry chuckle. His hands twisted the paper he was looking at into a knot, and in his worry had unconsciously shredded the ends into papery slivers. Vaguely, he brushed the loose shreds off his lap and onto the floor where Rinali would no doubt sweep it all up later.

"Nothing. Just wondering."

His eyes focused on his sister as she brushed her hair back and leaned against the windowsill, her wide eyes soft and dreamy in the pale dawn into which she gazed, almost expectantly. They were so full of emotion, and lucid- What, was it a shiny sheen of wetness he saw mirrored on their surfaces? Komui gritted his teeth, in his mind automatically blaming a certain white-haired exorcist, not without good reason but not with firm basis either. Seeing his imouto in so sad and helpless a state, as opposed from her usual strong, gently reassuring self, cut deeper to his soul than a knife would. Being erudite and pragmatic, he thought that approaching the topic with a sensitive, tactful way would be best. Yes, a sensitive and tactful way that would hopefully not include just how much he itched to strangle that little slim girly throat of a certain little bratty exorcist who dared to make his sister cry for love of him…

"So…um…er…areyouinlovewithAllenWalker?" He blurted out, brotherly concern bordering on frantic anxiety, and overpowering any want to be subtle and sensitive with the subject. Running all the words together in an incoherent way, however, was not the best approach either, and the genius scientist cursed himself silently, in both Chinese and English. He was, after all, fluent in both languages' profanities.

"Sorry, Oniisan, I didn't catch that. Can you please repeat it?"

"Um-well-aah…Nevermind." Komui sank his head down onto the cluttered surface of his desk, and could have wept at how hopeless the situation was, and how hopeless he was as a big brother. Oniisans were supposed to look out for their lovely little imoutos, and at the moment, he was of the opinion that he had failed in that aspect.

Completely unknowing of the effect she was having on her brother, Rinali continued her melancholy little sighs, and rested her cheek against the cool surface of the window, the feeling of the lower temperature of the glass pleasant to her hot skin.

Behind her, Komui continued smashing his forehead against his table, shaking it with startling force and making several stacks of paper careen crazily and finally topple to disseminate all over the office, as a stray wind had fluttered in through the half-open window to aid in the disorder already present.

"Oniisan, what are you doing?"

"Um, nothing in particular."

Komui was honestly close to tears by now, as he reflected on what a wonderful sister Rinali was and how she deserved to find love in a man who truly would care for her and protect her and cook for her and make sure she never cried and…. For all that the young exorcist was good for, Komui was sure that Allen barely fit the criteria. Being younger, gluttonous, idiotic, emotional, and with a mysterious past. Caring, yes, but from what he saw, Allen saw Rinali as a friend and not a prospective lover. If Komui had an opinion, it would be that the adopted youngster had no place in his heart for any romantic attachments of any sort, since he already possessed a great love for food that was so strong it could not be overcome by anyone. With the exception of Timcanpi, perhaps, but Timcanpi had been with Allen for a long time, no doubt making them close was and was not to mention just irresistibly adorable for a golem. That was, adorable when it kept its sharp teeth to itself.

Lover-The word made him cringe. He had never taken well before to the notion that some man was going to come and steal his little sister away someday, hence his always waking up and arming for combat whenever someone mentioned that she was going to be married. It reminded him that he would have to turn Rinali's wellbeing over to another man, one whom he thought was incapable of doing the task, no matter whom it might be, but Komui thought that it would be for her best interests that he take it upon himself to change Allen's view of her, as long as it made his imouto happy. However, he felt that he was severely lacking in the skills of matchmaking, not to mention other social abilities, and Allen seemed to be slightly terrified of him and his drill, and thus would not take nicely to having him as a brother-in-law. The genius scientist's brain, as usual, was thinking six or seven steps ahead – much more than necessary, but he did have to plan for his imouto's future too…

"Oniisan? Oniisan!"

"Wha?" Too absorbed in his own doleful thoughts, Komui had not realized that Rinali had been patiently calling him for the past several minutes, nor did he know that there was a thin trail of tears flowing down his cheeks.

"When do you think Allen will come back? And Kanda and Rabi. And Crowley after he leaves." She added, a little bit too quickly and rushed, as if it had all been a poor attempt to cover up a mistake, one that did not go unnoticed by the wary and as always, observant, Komui. Who struggled to keep his fingers from closing around the handle of the power drill that he always kept ready next to his desk.

"Vienna is all the way in Austria, and it only has a few apostles there left. It's also been under heavy attack for some reason, so I'd expect them to stay there for a while to help out until the worst is over…"

Rinali frowned, and Komui panicked. To him, it was slightly laughable how a mere look from his younger sister could make such a renowned genius such as himself all worried. It was not just the fact that they were related, nor was it just the fact that he felt to compensate in some way for their separation when she was but a child. There was something about Rinali, he concluded, that made so many want to be near her, and protect her with their lives. It was part of her natural charisma; Rinali was a very pretty girl, he had to admit, and even the self-proclaimed 'great Bak,' leader of the Eastern Branch, had not been immune to his little sister. However, would it be able to turn the normally daft Allen's head!  
"They'll be back soon though…I have great confidence in their skills and the three of them are more than capable of handling it on their own. Plus, Crowley's going to arrive there as reinforcement anyhow. Our resident bloodsucker, samurai, bookman-in-training and cursed glutton- not a bad team, if I say so myself. Not a bad team at all." He said, hoping that he sounded more reassured than he was.

"Putting Kanda and Allen together isn't quite the best of ideas, Oniisan." Rinali said quietly. "I could have went instead of Kanda, you know."

"Absolutely not. They're going to be partners. If needed, I'll send both of them to anger management class- actually, only Kanda really needs it, on second thought. Allen can go on a high-fiber diet, since it's more filling that way and thus he'd eat less. He's going to eat us out of house and home someday…besides, I need Kanda and Allen to reconcile since they're fairly compatible as a team of exorcists, if they would work together."

"Why? Put Rabi with Allen. Or Crowley. Or me, even! Just not Kanda. Those two, if you put them within two meters of each other, will clash. They can't stand each other! I'd be more inclined to think that they're sworn enemies, not allies. Kanda will rip his throat out, you know he will."

Of all things, she was actually fearing for the brat's life. Komui feared too- Walker was an excellent irreplaceable exorcist, but he truly thought that his abilities could be maximized if he worked in a team with the staid Kanda. The result of such a pair was well worth the risk of the dangers of having them in such close proximity.

"Have you seen this?" Komui asked abruptly, opening a drawer and stopping Rinali's protests and long lists of reasons. It slid creakily open on unoiled, crusty slides, almost ominously, hinting at the horror that it contained. He had to tug on the handle hard before he had opened it a sufficient crack to take out what was within.

"Niisan…" Rinali said, a hint of exasperation in her voice that usually was not present, especially when speaking to her trusted, beloved elder brother. She had always addressed him with a significant amount of respect that always warmed his heart, but perhaps she was obviously getting impatient, so intense were the feelings she felt for the little Brit. "Please don't change the subject, it-eeekk!"

Her eyes were wide and riveted in fear on the object Komui held gingerly in the palm of his hand, wrapped in a white handkerchief stained with red. Gruesome and morbid with all its meaning, dark words were smeared on the skull in Komui's hand.

"_Fuck you, exorcists, false apostles of a falser god. Watch out. We will get you all, especially the Destroyer of Time._" She read off numbly, voice shaking over the expletive that began the sentence. Her jaw clenched tightly, whether out of fear, shock, or anger at the blatant threat to Allen's safety, Komui was not sure.

"This is the skull of one of our exorcists posted in Berlin. I had Rabi and Crowley bring it back to me. You see, there were a lot of exorcists gathering there as of the last month or so, and many of the most renowned ones. Heck, there were two generals there, even. It was because we had received an anonymous tip that the Noah family's headquarters were centered there, and thus we gathered many exorcists to perform a raid." Komui whispered. "As you can see from this skull…everything went wrong. I was too naïve- it was a trap after all. A trap."

His voice shook with regret, wavering with the silent emotional grief that he, as a rule, never dared to let anyone else, any of his colleagues see for fear of demoralization and loss of face. He was not ashamed of it, truly, but others may think differently and he had his position to think of.

"Niisan…I-I'm sorry to hear that…"

"Our exorcists that had been posted there…Rabi said that all of them had been mercilessly slaughtered, their corpses defiled, and the only thing really intact were their skulls. Each of them had been written with something, like this one, but the other ones had spelled out something."

"What was it?" Rinali asked, in dread. Komui watched, and knew that she already had guessed the answer, from the draining of all healthy color from her face.

"A-L-L-E-N-W-A-L-K-E-R. Allen Walker. The destroyer of time, as he is better known to our enemies as." The scientist said in a low tone, dark with the suggestions that it held.

"Allen-kun…The Earl's after him because of the prophecy, aren't they?"

"Aa." '_Assuming that he is the one to fulfill it, yes. Or could have it something to do with the past? Bygones were never bygones, no matter what the old adages said on the subject.' _Komui shifted in his chair, almost apprehensively. "Yes, so as to say. He is after all a great threat to the Earl's existence-_if _it is true. But not just him is targeted- all of you exorcists are, so that is why we will, um, dispense with the usual movements of exorcists, and begin pairing you all up especially on international missions starting next week. You are to sleep together, eat together, and basically cover each other's backs. Both exorcists in the little unit will have to remain in a six-foot radius of the other."

He dropped the skull back into his desk for safekeeping-very safe since there were few who were capable of plowing through the marsh that was comprised of his many unfinished papers to find the desk underneath. Rinali looked thoughtful, and Komui could practically see the gears in her head moving around to piece together all the information like the clever little girl she was. He smiled faintly, not without a trace of nervousness, at her next question. "So…who's with who?"

"You and Miranda, Crowley and Rabi, Allen and Kanda. Bookman will rotate amongst all three of your groups, since he will go around to supervise missions."

"Oniisan, pairing together Kanda and Allen is an utter disaster waiting to happen, you know that."

Komui cringed, at the disappointment in her voice, and waved his hands frantically in an effort to calm her. "Now, now…there's a reason why they're together." He smiled sadly, at how Rinali pouted, trying to conceal the discontent and letdown that she had been feeling, but her small face easily showed emotion with her expressive dark eyes. Her lower lip trembled, and he watched her bite down on it, a small drop of blood appearing on the broken redness. Duty as a big brother sometimes demanded for exercising restraint upon over-gratifying his younger sibling, for the sake of precaution. But had it really been so bad, that she was so disappointed?

"Rinali…" He said gently, taking her soft, smaller hand in his, marveling how such a beautiful creature could possibly share his blood and name, possibly be his little sister. She was angelic, not meant for the earth and all its suffering, nor for unworthy, dull old him to protect. "If you look closely, Kanda is the perfect opposite to Allen. Allen acts heedlessly on emotions at times, since he feels an obligation to protect everything he can. He is also less emotionally stable at times, perhaps of some traumatic past that he has not really told us about. Kanda, however, is less prone to rushing into situations, and thus will be able to stop him from doing anything rash, or at least will be able to compensate for it. He will keep Allen in line, and hopefully out of trouble. Also, Kanda is not directionally challenged, as so to say. Moreover, pairing a parasitic type and an equipment type is a precaution, since Kanda is useless without his sword, even if he's trained in karate and judo well. I couldn't have paired Allen with anyone else, since Rabi can be just as reckless at times, and their combined stupidity- ahem, impulsiveness will lead to more trouble. And Crowley should be paired up with Rabi since those two are friendly with each other-but then again, Rabi's friendly with everyone mostly…."

"Why not Miranda or me?" Rinali asked softly.

"I'd rather put two females together, since the pairs are going to be living very closely together. I'm not letting you stay in a six-foot radius of a man for more than ten minutes, much less room with him. " Komui said briskly, his overprotective nature kicking in. Had she allowed him, he would have given right on the spot a ten-hour lecture on the evils of unscrupulous males. "Did I mention you'd have to been in a six-foot radius of the other? Which includes, yes, bathing and toiletries. Men will always take the chance to peak at a pretty girl- what if he's a peeping tom and looks in on you when you're dressing! Or what if he's a pervert who takes advantage of you!"

He recoiled at the mere thought, tears once again welling in his eyes at the thought of his pure, sweet young sister at the mercy of an unscrupulous male who better not so much look at her or risk facing the wrath of his power drill and dissection kit, both of which would render him into so many pieces that not even an electron microscope would be able to identify the broken remains.

"Crowley's too shy to make a move and I'm too young for him, Rabi and I are just friends, Kanda's not interested in anything that's living other than himself, and Allen, he'd never hurt me."

"So Allen simply sees you as a friend, right?" Komui could not help but ask. Immediately, he regretted it, for Rinali ripped her hand away from his and turned her face away from him, as if ashamed of her feelings. He saw a wet, shimmering trail of tears make its sad and slow procession down her lovely face to gather at her chin, dripping to the floor below. Her slender frame quivered slightly, and she shook her head wildly, as if to clear herself of all such traitorous feelings that had caused her such bittersweet fantasies.

"It's all his fault, is it so?" His voice rose a pitch higher, and strained.

"Nothing's his fault." Rinali protested. "Please don't be too harsh on him! It's not his fault." She lowered her head slightly, and stared at her fingers, becoming suddenly fascinated with the way her nail seemed to melt into her skin at the cuticle. "He-He just has a lot more on his mind. Allen-kun seems so sad, always. Do you know how it feels? How it hurts me when I walk past his room at night, and hear him crying softly, and never telling us how sad he really is inside? I don't know what happened to him in his past, but whatever it is, he won't speak to me about it. I hate it when he looks at me like that, smiling as if nothing's wrong. It's almost patronizing, in how he refuses to let others care. I hate his cursed eye. I hate his smiling all the time as if nothing is wrong. It's as if he doesn't trust us!"

Komui drew back a little at the sheer volume and pitch of Rinali's outburst, her voice ragged with more unshed tears she desperately held back. The struggle to keep them at bay, however, was lost by her, the sadness and disappointment showing more and more clearly on her face.

"Nightmares?...hm, that's pretty good data. But why are you up at night anyway?"

"I can't sleep." She contended through her sniffles, but the truth in it was faltering, and Komui knew it.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" It was more a statement then a question, since Komui already knew the answer. Yet, it was a fact that he was loathe to recognize in all the consequences it meant for him, her, and their wonderful siblinghood.

"I'm not." Her voice was quiet but quavering with denial.

"Rinali, he's cursed. In more ways then one, I'm not just talking about that akuma-sensing eye of his. Are you alright with that?"

No. She can't be. Can't, for her own safety. And indeed that was true. Anyone that was affiliated in any way with the former chief scientist Mana Walker could hardly be good luck, given the mysterious occurrence of his deceasing not to mention other events in the past that were best left buried. Allen himself had probably had a rough fifteen years of pain behind him, and tougher ones ahead. Komui knew that when those times came, his headaches would probably increase, him being the young British boy's superior. Mana Walker's forever present ghost haunted the boy's way, lingering immaterial in a material world with none of the peace that his soul deserved, although his presence made itself manifest in many small ways. Not even Allen himself knew how many eerie parallels existed between him and his adoptive father, their set of mind strikingly similar and other details just as frighteningly familiar to Komui's disturbed eyes. None in the Order dared bring up the revered scientist's name, still, even after his many years of departure from the church.

"I don't care! I know he never looks at me other than a good friend, and I'm happy with that-I don't even think he sees me as even a different gender from him. But I can't help but want more from him-is it wrong?"

"No." Komui was forced to say. There was nothing wrong about having affection for anyone else, in his opinion, since true love was a natural, pure emotion untainted nor corrupted by any darkness, simply something that flowed unconsciously from the heart. It can be no sin to be feel emotions that came so freely and unconditionally. It was a blessing, more like, at least for as long as the love lasted, Komui thought darkly, and did not end in sorrow and heartbreak.

The world revolved around them, in Komui's mind, there being no room for anyone else in his view on his and Rinali's relationship as brother and sister. There was nothing between them; his protectiveness of Rinali went to drastic limits, and it was unnecessary at times, even, but Komui was adamant in playing the role of her guardian. Others called his fanatical, almost covetous possessiveness of Rinali a 'sister complex.' But the scientist knew better than to let the thoughts of others dictate his filial love for Rinali, since he wanted nothing but the best for her, which she deserved. She would always be his little butterfly, his little sunbeam, no matter how deeply in darkness and blood she was buried in; He would always fish her out and bring her home again. To a certain degree he himself harbored an obsession for caring for Rinali, that could, although not entirely, be attributed to their separation years ago, and her suffering in the Black Order until he entered. A want to compensate for her distress then and his inability to take care of her drove his warped brotherly love. It was nothing but a twisted form of self-gratification, his pampering his imouto and refusing her to see any men, but also an almost immature unwillingness to give up something precious to him.

She was just a small, vulnerable cocoon. No matter how beautiful her wings may spread when she fully hatched, Komui still covetously protected her like a singular treasure, loathe to let go or entertain the notion that someday she would fly away herself. There had been no transgressor on what he deemed to be the sacred grounds of their siblinghood until one British exorcist came along, and stole Rinali's heart and took with him as well Komui's position as the most important man in her life.

However, the cocoon would not always remain a cocoon, and Rinali would not always remain a young girl.

No matter how painful it may be to see her change and flourish before him, Komui knew that nothing would be able to reverse time, and that once she was grown, nothing would be able to give his sweet little sister back to him, for him to cherish and care for eternally. There was little he could do to impede or fully pause this transformation, and not even his status as big brother could amend the situation.

"I'll support you no matter what, Rinali." Komui said heavily, "So if that's really what you want…"

"But I don't know if he returns my feelings. Allen never lets anyone really get close to him, haven't you noticed that? I care for him, but he doesn't let me even do that."

The reflections in Rinali's eyes quivered with hurt, and she sniffled, wiping away a stray teardrop. _Oniisan, what can I do?_ Not for the first time, Komui's heart sank, at his own weakness and inability. Getting up close and personal with akuma and their guns was not something he could do, as he lacked the qualities of an apostle. Thus science had been his only choice when he entered the Black order. But still, he could not even keep his little sister happy- he wanted to be of the same strength as the exorcists; he wanted to protect the people, kill the akuma, foil the Earl's plans, bring an end to Rinali's crying, and generally end up saving the day.

But he could not.

He could only wipe away at her tears with the end of his sleeve, and watch his beloved imouto walk away from him into the mire of akuma that exorcists were fighting each day, her back facing him and getting further away until she was nothing but a speck in the foggy distance. He had nothing but his inner demons of guilt and hopelessness to fight. He could only take her into his arms, and let her sob and cling like a little helpless panda bear to his shirt, just as she did so many years ago as a little child in China.

But, even as she shook and sank into his warm embrace, Komui buried his nose into her hair, inhaled its sweet floral-shampoo scent that laced every strand, and thought that at the moment, while it was all he was capable of doing, that it was all she had wanted from him: reassurance and a big hug. And Komui was glad that at least he could fulfill those two silent, simple requests. Just like a good brother should do.

Six cups of coffee, many tears, and precisely twenty-two used tissues later, Rinali slipped out the door, but not before Komui had made something very clear to her.

"Sister darling- if Allen breaks your heart, I'll break his spine…or worse. I honestly don't care if he's an exorcist or not." Komui had warned. His tone carried a cold edge, with each and every word stressed through his teeth, especially 'spine' and 'worse.' Being the overprotective brother that he was, he was already devising plans for ensuring his sister's happiness; it was only in times if anything that threatened her that he became so serious, the complete opposite of his usual deceptively daft and vague self.

He moistened his lips with the last cold dregs of coffee in his mug, and frowning, turned it upside down.

"No more…" Komui muttered sadly, and longingly eyed his coffee roast-dripper, where the pungent smell of more of the delicious, delightfully caffeine-loaded stuff was wafting from. It sat all the way on the other side of his desk, and he could hardly be bothered to reach over to get it.

Curling up in his large swivel chair like a small child, the genius scientist huddled over his seventh cup of coffee that day. From his top drawer, he removed a small green leather-bound notebook, which was the standard budget stationary for recording lab statistics, charts, and other such data. He neatly labeled it "Allen Walker" on the spine with black ink that barely showed on the deep green of the book. He leafed to the first page, and smoothed it out.

In a firm, bold hand, being the scientist that he was, he listed down the following given statements, and hypotheses based on the previous statements. The purpose of this was to organize the rapidly gaining cache of given information into something more intelligible and coherent, and free of any mental distractions that would have had disrupted his rational follow-ups to the data.

_Subject: The Everyday Life of Allen Walker _

_Dossier Data:_

_Name(s): Allen Walker (Last name adapted from his foster family); Beansprout (As Kanda Yuu calls him); Beansprout-chan(As Rabi calls him)_

_Nationality: English_

_Age: around 15, though is uncertain_

_Height: 168 cm_

_Weight: 58 kg_

_Birthday: Dec 25 (given to him by his foster father Mana Walker)_

_Exorcist-type: parasitic (he uses his left arm)_

_Notes:_

_A- Allen's Relationship with Rinali_

_1.Rinali Li is in love with Allen Walker. _

_2.Allen's true feelings on this are unknown. He is currently single, and shows no signs of beginning a romantic relationship with anyone, or could be a late bloomer as far as sexual maturity is concerned._

_3.Rinali sees him at nights, or at least approaches where he resides. _

_4.Allen has nightmares- this may or may not be related to his past. Only Rinali has noticed this, so far. _

_5. Allen refuses to tell anyone about his nightmares, even Rinali when she confronted him, and simply cries alone in secret. In fact, he is secretive on just about everything. _

_6. Komui Lee (myself) will try to matchmake Allen and Rinali, for the sake of making the latter, his sister, happy. _

_7. Allen Walker may not be ready for a commitment with anyone, since he does not show that he sees those of the female gender as desirable._

_B- Food_

_1. Allen eats a lot. _

_2. His favorite foods are dango, ice cream, and just about anything sweet and edible. He does not show much discrimination when it comes to food, but simply shovels it all down._

_3. Allen is a parasitic-type apostle, so his body requires a large amount of food to sustain it. His metabolism is also abnormally fast, which can contribute to the fact that he is not overweight. _

_4. Chief Jerry may or may not have only contributed to his gluttony, by his willingness to prepare just about anything Allen wants to eat. _

_Additional Observations:_

_a. Timcanpi has taken the role of both guardian and overprotective friend to Allen upon itself, most likely due to Cross's orders, or its own self-judgment. _

_b. Allen Walker can be highly emotional at times, giving sudden outbursts at times. More often than not, Kanda Yuu would be the reason for his frustration_

_c. Allen and Kanda dislike each other. This can be traced back to the time when Allen was mistaken for one of the Earl's men. Their relations improved slightly after the Matel case, but they are still at odds with each other. Allen in particular has publicly shown some frustration on this, contradicting his usually easygoing nature, and even went so far as to berate the other during a briefing. However, he did apologize within minutes for his unnecessary behavior. _

_Hypotheses:_

_1.Allen has high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and is under stress. Chances are that he will collapse at one point. (Supported by A5, B1, B2)_

_2.Allen is embarrassed to tell anyone about his nightmares because he is insecure and shy, hence his drowning them out in using food as a catharsis. (B1)_

_3.Allen is most likely behind the thefts from the tower's cold cellars and kitchens, as Chief Jerry has been complaining of suspicious amounts of food that had been disappearing ever since his entrance into the order. (B)_

_4.Allen's nightmare relates to his past, most likely something with Mana Walker. (A4, A5)_

_5.Allen is hiding something, and is overwhelmed by it. (A5,b)_

_6.Allen will succumb to Rinali's charms due to her niisan's (myself's) intervention and will fall in love with her(A6)._

_7.Allen is totally blind to Rinali's affections. (A2)_

_8.If Allen sees Rinali's attraction to him, he will hesitate in starting up a relationship with her. (A2, A6)_

_9.If Allen sees Rinali's attraction to him, he will not return those affections. (A2)_

_10.If the previous hypothesis happens, there is a 112 chance Komui (myself) will render him sterile, dissect him alive, and feed whatever remains there are of his corpse to the akuma. (A6)_

_11.Allen will not take well to working with Kanda when they are paired together. (b,c) _

_12.Allen Walker is not attracted to females, but rather to males, and thus will not return Rinali's feelings for him. (A2)_

Stunned at what he wrote, Komui leaned back in his chair and read over the myriads of hypotheses that had been organized and penned out on paper, spreading the ideas and their supporting statements out logically so he saw the interweaving possibilities.

"That's a very good point…what if Allen turned out to be gay?" he mused aloud, not without a trace of horror. If that was true, his sympathy went out to Rinali. It was for sure that the white-haired exorcist never had ever showed a preference, and there was moreover a high possibility that he would turn out to be like the cold Kanda, nonsexual and liking absolutely nobody. After all, the boy _was_ fifteen, and Komui remembered, not without a wry grin at his own former stupidity, his own view of the opposite gender then at the same age. His interest in girls was only overturned by his interest in blowing things up and drilling holes in walls.

Which, of course, led to his present occupation. As a scientist, he could blow chemicals up in his labs and drill parasitic type weapons, most notably Allen's.

Komui gave a little groan. "Oh, to be young and in love." He said, not with a hint of sarcasm. The words were dry and somewhat unpleasant rolling off his tongue like that, and sounded strangely empty in the office.


	17. Absinthe

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-man, Hoshino Katsura does.

Author's note: I. Hate. School. I know I've been updating less often now, so gomen for the wait. Unfortunately, my comp has a bug, my internet's uncooperative, and I have school. Not to mention I'm a bit struggling with how to pace this story, since it's my first effort at fanfiction. I don't think I've ever written anything this long in my life. Anyway...here's ch. 17. Just to let everyone know, this arc will be Rabi-centric, on his friendship with Allen. And of course, a little bit on Allen's past but nothing much really...

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Absinthe ♥

7:00 AM, Train to Vienna

Her streak of luck had returned, fortune beginning to smile upon her again. Allen eyed Ticky, and eyed her own cards, smirking. Victory was hers, and Ticky could rot in the sinful, damned bowels of hell as far as she was concerned, with the rest of the akuma, his family, and the earl to boot. If only. Although she was after all the heroine of the story, she still was entitled to a little evil streak in her that she usually never let out. It was, after all, she thought bleakly, best for herself and everyone. Unless she was playing cards, that was, but games were an entirely different matter. Even Rabi was shuddering at her scary expression, Allen noticed, not without a little hint of glee. Kanda looked bored and/or repulsed like his customary self, giving small grunts of annoyance every now and then from his seat. However, the little spark of curiosity that was present in those dark eyes was something she failed to see, as always.

She concentrated on his facial expression, which was set in a cold expressionless mask, much like dark stone. A muscle tic here, a bead of sweat there told Allen everything she needed to know.

His right eyebrow twitched as he accepted his cards from Rabi, leading her to conclude that his hand was none too good. The exorcist nearly missed the almost imperceptible frown that passed across his face and dissipated without a trace into a blank poker expression.

Her quick eyes and the fact that she had strategically placed herself on the floor so as to see the metallic reflective surface of the setting of the lights above on the ceiling; quite coincidentally, Ticky happened to be perfectly seated where she could see him from her vantage point, and if she glanced upwards, she would be treated with a lovely though limited view of what he had in his left hand. One thing that was disadvantageous, however, was that the Noah was right-handed, and very rarely used his left hand, unless it was to bring additional cheat cards into the game- something that she found to her great amazement that he did not accomplish under her watchful scrutiny. Taking her own hand from the redhead, she made sure to 'accidentally' flash him a glimpse of the diamond ace in her grasp- something that was actually dealt to her and not brought in illegally-hoping that he would be more than not inclined to fold since his hand was mostly diamonds anyhow, which would most likely become a target for a winning hand.

Much to her chagrin, Ticky stubbornly continued, a faint smirk belying her expectations and forcing her to stay on the alert. Something was up his sleeve, and quite literally as well as she grimly caught a flash of white and red slipping from it, but too quickly for her to catch its identity or to accuse him of anything.

She needed to finish the game, and fast.

Rabi's green eye strayed noticeably to his watch, briefly, and after he took in its reading he frowned and fixed her with a warning look.

Having Ticky around was one thing, but his presence could possibly jeopardize their mission, especially if the game lasted too long. He was, after all, continuing to Vienna as well and was an integral part of their target mission, and might be just the link between the Earl and them. She'd be psychotically inclined if she was to attack him at the moment, however, considering the hefty bill she would have to pay if she damaged the train and the loud screaming she would have to put up from the ever easily-exasperated Kanda, whose anger was something she was loathe to face at the moment since she was afraid of his temper suddenly and spontaneously combusting and blowing up the compartment. And just _who_ was the one with pms!

"Just one question…why are the akuma attacking Vienna so furiously?" She voiced neutrally, keeping a wary watch on the Noah. Allen could have sworn that she spotted Kanda's ears almost perk up in curiosity, although he did not fully show it. His hand rested on Mugen's hilt, prepared at any instance to unleash a powerful attack on their enemy, even though she herself was in close proximity and was precariously in the way of a swing of the blade, if it was attempted. For the opportunity of killing a Noah, he would no doubt be more than eager to sacrifice her as well. It was not as if he cared, she thought drolly, as she closely observed Ticky. It would be equivalent to killing two birds with one stone if Kanda saw fit to attack, since he would rid himself of both an enemy (Ticky) and an aggravating thorn in the side ( a.k.a herself).

"Se…Cr… Et." Ticky drawled out through his teeth, aggravatingly slow and his tone tempting her to simply bitch-slap him in a particularly feminine challenge, and so hard that he would not be able to see straight until he hit old age. The sound of flesh being bruised and reddened would be so satisfying, and would no doubt relieve some of the built-up tension that had been accumulating over the past few weeks, what with working irregular hours going on exorcising journeys, and missing out on a lot of sleep. The latter being mostly attributed to the nightmares, which she couldn't help nor complain verbally about to sympathetic ears since she was not inclined to worry anyone about her well-being. One Rinali Li sprang to mind, quite fittingly. However, Allen decided, it would not be a prudent choice to slap Ticky because of the fact she had two more cards concealed in its special custom-made pocket in the cuff of her sleeve, and having them inconveniently flutter out in the attack would mean game over.

As much as she wanted to, Allen restrained her twitching hand from activating and shooting across the room to punish him and wipe that infuriating smirk off his face. After all, Ticky had no qualms about hitting girls, that much she was certain, as he was a man of little morals. Then again, there was little else to be done but fight when a girl was set on killing him at every opportunity possible. The girl being namely her.

"If I win this round, you're giving me your golem." Ticky remarked, making her bristle protectively.

"Tim won't listen to anyone but Master Cross. Or maybe me." Allen bit back, reaching upwards to where the little golden golem sat upon her head, nestled comfortably in soft white hair. "Hate to break it to you, but I'll take this round." _And if you even do win, I hope Timcanpi bites your nose off._

The exorcist wanted to make herself good on her word, and she rescanned her cards with an air of satisfaction. As powerful a hand as she could possibly conjure with help of deceitful trickery and other such Machiavellian techniques, there was little honor in the battlefield of poker.

He smirked.

She grinned back.

He kept his face blank and smoothly expressionless.

She hid her scowl and purposely held back her hand from strangling him right there.

He raised his bet to a hundred bucks, which was a paltry sum for one of such a rich family as him, but still substantial to make Rabi eye it covetously.

She had no use for American currency, but she raised as well, offering her wallet to the jackpot.

He made one mistake- his overconfidence in his hand and it cost him much, the game being at the pivotal moment of deciding the victor.

She saw it.

He raised again, his ego surmounting and surpassing all other rational precaution that he would have otherwise displayed when playing against such a cheating expert as her.

She won.

"Call….Royal flush." Triumphantly, Allen expertly fanned her cards out for Ticky to see, with a broad grin. "I win."

The royal flush being the impossibly hard hand with the highest value, there was no way for the older man to counter it with his full house.

She deftly caught her uniform when Ticky tossed it in her face, clutching it and hugging it to her chest as is she was never going to let it go. Behind her, she heard Kanda give an almost inaudible sigh, and Rabi was slumped over the seats in relief.

"Hey, Beansprout-chan…honestly, you had me worried for a while with that losing streak." The redhead muttered, giving her an exasperated look, one that conveyed his genuine anxiety. "And I thought you win every game you play."

"Heh heh…um…well…It was a fluke." Allen tried to explain, feeling the hot color of chagrin rising to her cheeks under the powdery weight of her makeup. She scratched her head and laughed nervously. "F-L-U-K-E. I won, didn't I, this round."

"That's what you say, _boy_." Ticky commented drily, as he got up from the floor and dusted his dress pants off, with a sophisticated air that made her roll her eyes. Allen, cheeks reddened, gave him a glare, not liking the way he had expressed the word, since it sounded almost like an insult the way the tone was inflected in emphasizing.

She didn't put it past him to want to have won the previous round, so that she would be forced to strip off either her last shirt or her pants. Both were out of the question, since the former would reveal something that definitely had no right to exist on a male's body not to mention the bandages that had mysteriously disappeared from the sick ward, and the latter a pair of frilly white panties that would no doubt entitle Kanda or Rabi to laughing rights for a year. Lace had always made her feel so much more better; the frills, while being impractical and unneeded, had always been quite comforting to her rather feminine little heart with all its feminine wants, which was secretly buried under a boy's façade but not entirely forgotten. Kanda would no doubt never let her live it down, but she did not want to think of the consequences.

Not to mention her secret would be out and she would have to deal with everyone's initial shock. Moreover, he had made quite a point. If he had meant to show her how much power he held over her by being able to expose her secret at any time, Allen had certainly thought that he had accomplished that, and quite well too. The exorcist could still feel her hands trembling from the close call and her heart quivering in the cavity of her chest, the loud rapid beating muffled against the bandages that bound her breasts down.

Allen glowered; the fact that she had won one brief little victory in cards was no comfort to soften the fact that the Earl had found out her true identity and that any day now, there would be the possibility that her cover was blown. Indeed, the exorcist could already visualize herself pushed with her back to the very edge of the cliff, her feet struggling to keep their footing, the strong wind attempting to push her off. Trying to keep from falling into the mire of lies that she had constructed.

Before he left, the tall dark-skinned man paused before her, and gave her a light cuff, almost cruelly affectionate, making her gasp, and bristle. Allen stared angrily at him, feeling extremely defenseless under the sharp gaze of his eyes, and even more so because of the contact. His trying to make her uncomfortable with getting physical would not work on her, she thought defiantly- yet, his touch made her caused her to hiss and recoil like a frightened cat, an action she could not refrain from. Her heightened wariness was only made stronger by the fact that they were enemies.

"We'll meet again in Vienna…exorcists. We'll get you all sometime." Ticky said coolly, simply leaving as suddenly as Allen had met him, with a flash of his cape. So much for unnecessary drama, she thought soberly. She had to admit that of all the villains she had met, Ticky was the one who conducted his affairs with the most flair, much to her great dislike.

"_Ja ne_. Screw you too." Rabi called mockingly after the dark man's back. Ticky didn't seem to have heard, though.

He left a somber atmosphere in his wake, and Allen scowled at the reminder that she was going to be of little use to her teammates with her injuries. Silently, Rabi extended his hand to her and she took it, feeling the calluses on the skin there, and the strength of the grip. She grudgingly let him pull her to her feet, and took care to hide her expression of pain as she sank down on the plush train seat and pulled her cloak on. Just moving her torso caused sudden stretches of tension in her injured stomach muscles, and she had to bite back her little yelp.

But there was little that she could hide from Rabi's one eye, and for a moment, she saw his expression falter and become anxious, but it faded back to its natural, neutral state. "I'm alright. Don't worry about me.' She reassured him. "And I don't intend to be a burden either."

Which was right. Being nothing but a hindrance would be an insult to herself, and the responsibility placed upon her. Not to mention Timcanpi would probably bite her. Hard.

"Hmph. So you say. Thank God that vampire-man is coming. We can use someone who can actually fight." Kanda muttered rebelliously from his seat opposite from her.

"He's right, y'know, Beansprout-chan." Rabi said, slumping down on the seat next to her. "Vienna's probably a mess…for some reason, the akuma are all centered around there in Austria. It's gonna be tough stuff from here on."

"It doesn't seem to just be as Komui said that it was, with the akuma just trying to destroy the entire city, taking away brilliance in the field of music, and making people suffer so the Earl has more opportunities to create more akuma."

"Come to think of it," Rabi said neutrally, "it could be. We'll have to see, wouldn't we?"

"Hmph."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Yuu-chan!"

Allen frowned, and rescanned the report that Komui had given her, eyes flickering and speed-reading as best as she could. She had a feeling that there was more behind the words there, more than what the brief so simply and clearly stated with a blatant lack of emotion, but without reason to back it up. Vienna was home to classical music, and she felt that somehow, there was something of the Earl's motives that threatened that, and not just depriving people of their music.

Feverishly, she looked through the report again and again. It contained the mandatory basics that were necessary to all exorcists, such as the population of civilians, the base where they would be located, and most morbidly the death count of people due to akuma attacks. But there was little else that was useful. For one, there was no indication of just where the akuma were concentrated; Vienna was a large city, and without minute details it would be difficult to center their akuma hunting. Allen felt it- she could feel the menace behind the situation so coldly and calmly stated in the report. But she could get no coherent backing from the words. With a hint of a grimace she asked Rabi if there was anything else Komui had told them other than what was written. The answer came back negative, and she again sank to poring over the sheets. As she had expected, she found nothing.

"Um. Perhaps there is something that the earl needs there. Innocence, maybe. Perhaps it's not destruction, but they're actually tearing apart the city to get to the innocence. I mean- Vienna is so famous for its music, maybe part of that is attributed to um, innocence? Like the dolls in Matel were made with innocence, maybe the-"

"Fool. The dolls were material, but music is something you hear, and you can't use innocence for something that isn't there." Kanda glowered at her, his tone condescending.

If Allen remembered correctly, sound waves were mechanical, meaning that they required matter to travel through. That in itself was not firm basis to prove anything, but there was after all the possibility then that innocence could possibly play a role in the mission. But when she saw fit to loudly tell Kanda so, she was met with little more than a sneer and the older exorcist telling her pointedly that she'd better keep her facts straight and to herself. As he obviously had thought there had been little evidence to support her insistence.

Allen slapped her forehead. And winced at the little impact, knowing that she shouldn't have hit herself so hard. Men all thought the same, preferring to base facts on reason alone and dismissing 'feelings' as unneeded. It was an instinctive thought, no, not thought, but rather a sort of innate feeling that needed no other support other than its own sense that it was right, to justify it. Women's intuition, she thought sourly. It was not the first time that she wished that Rinali and Miranda had came along, to defuse the combined thick-headed innate denseness of two men, including one certain egoistic samurai-wannabe who was too stubborn to see beyond the bridge of his own nose. It was not that Allen really had anything against men, being disguised as one, but at times it was too frustrating that they were so insight-impaired.

The white-haired exorcist was met with two identical blank stares. It did not take long for Rabi's, however, to shift to one of understanding, being the shrewd and unusually perceptive bookman-in-training that he was.

"That's a very good point, Beansprout-chan." The redhead said, his long fingers stroking his chin where he figured his inexistent beard would be. "Innocence, you say? Well, maybe you're like an akuma and that eye of yours is reacting to the presence of innocence. After all, you can see really far, right? And the curse activates itself in danger…"

"I don't know, it's just a gut feeling. Like there's something amiss." Allen explained, uneasily, not liking the comparison of herself and an akuma at all. While being cursed was rather convenient, as she would never have to use herself as bait like the other exorcists did with their uniforms, Allen did not like the fact that there was a similarity between her and her sworn enemies. She felt a faint shudder go down her spine, tickling her skin uncomfortably. The ominous, threatening sense did not leave her.

"We'll see when we get there then." Kanda had already turned away to the window, eyes half-lidded as he looked outside, more interested in getting some sleep rather than listening to her (she didn't take much offense, being used to it) or watching the Austrian countryside roll by. His long dark eyelashes fluttered once, twice, thrice- before they helplessly came down to rest in the closed world of sleep, finally succumbing to the weariness he had tried so hard to hide. Inquisitively, Allen watched him sleep for a few minutes, deciding that he was much better a person asleep, with his foul mouth silenced, mugen lying harmlessly in its sheath without his hand around the hilt, and his glare closed. She wondered just why he could not be like that all the time, since it would make matters a lot less complicated for her, and she wouldn't have to strain to keep from being incensed all the time in his presence. Pathetically, she'd probably die from an aneurysm or other such consequences of high blood pressure before she turned sixteen, given how she was always so under stress. Maintaining a male appearance was not just stressful, but also made her feel guilty for what she had not told her friends. Stealing bandages from the infirmary and nearly getting caught several times provided her with more excitement than she needed in a lifetime. Arguing with and putting up with Kanda did not help matters in that aspect as well.

Allen was left to her own devices, Rabi having taken a book out from his pockets to read. "It's alright Allen. The people in Vienna will be fine, I hope, for now."

"Whatever you say." The white-haired girl replied neutrally, kicking her feet up from the seat and following their motion with a vague interest.

But still, she saw his brows furrow intensely behind the paperback, and noticed that even over half an hour, he was still on the same page he had started on. Her bringing up the possibility that there could be innocence in Vienna had obviously struck a realization, and Rabi was no doubt mulling over on it, even if he did not fully express his agreement. Allen could not help but give a little breath of sympathy.

They never did like to admit when they thought that you might be right. She didn't think it was all that much of a big deal, but she lacked any macho pride whatsoever. But then again, nobody ever did like admitting to anything, man or woman.

It had been more years than she had liked, that she had spent in disguising herself as a boy. The deception had been well-meant, and necessary, and while Allen was less than fond of keeping up such a deceitful and high-maintenance appearance, it had allowed her a rare opportunity of insight into the closed mystery of the opposite gender. Despite the fuss about the female enigma, men always confused the hell out of women, ever since the Stone Age, and she had always been annoyed and a little curious about her master's quirks, and those of the other men around her. Sadistic, womanizing Cross; sly, fun Rabi with all his understated brilliance; and the very much and confusingly so taciturn Kanda's coldness had provided her with no lack of subjects to examine, under the differing light of a woman's view.

It could be said that women had tougher lives, having to go through menstrual cycles, pain when they lost their virginity, pregnancy, giving birth, menopause, and a host of many other problems that were constantly being complained about and brought up. It would have never occurred to Allen before that perhaps it was not completely justified in judging that her gender had a more strenuous life- no, they were simply louder in talking about their problems and did it more as well.

Men however, Allen reflected as she vaguely inspected her fingernails, were different, and more closed and unable to talk about their problems so freely as females were able to. It was a matter of not showing weakness, in a way, since they were born into a society that stereotypically regarded males as being strong and tough. It was strange, that when a girl cried, she was comforted, and when a boy did the same, he was ridiculed. Raised to fit that label, any other male that was not the norm like that would have been ridiculed by peers that would not have known any better, since that was exactly what tradition asked from them. And indeed, differing would be bad- the public simply would not accept something that was out of the clearly defined male role. It was a harsh demand that males went through; Any vulnerability was carefully masked, with a machismo that seemed pathetically overbearing, as if to compensate for the insecurities.

Rabi was worried, but he insisted on keeping a strong face. For what? Allen wanted to scream to him, ask him. Were emotions something to be so ashamed of? Were they so soft that one would be ashamed of them, something that was only natural? Perhaps she was just being unreasonable, being a girl who still even after so many years of passing off for a boy did not understand how the male mind worked.

It seemed at the same time so sad and so utterly brainlessly, hopelessly _stupid_ to Allen. Having no outlet for any 'weak' emotions, and suffering alone since men were not supposed to cry was something that she thought was too harshly imposed. All in all, their swaggering, fierce mask that they proudly called 'masculinity' made her frustrated, at the knowledge of what turmoiling, pent-up suffering may lie beneath it. Allen could understand. Why they insisted on being so macho, so sexist. It was their only way of remaining in control and worthy of the high 'esteem' that the world held them in- Strong, powerful, not crybabies. It was their armor, shielding a heart, so small and fragile underneath all the overlarge metal plates, a heart as soft as anyone else's.

Although, with all necessary and of significance being said, she was not entirely convinced that women did not have the harder life. Menstrual cramps were bad enough. But sex, pregnancy, childbirth, and menopause were not things she had ever experienced before, and at the rate things were going, Allen was fairly sure that she would not be able to experience the first three, being thought of as male. Allen sighed, and brought her hands flutteringly up to her cheeks, which had suddenly for some reason become uncomfortably hot for the embarrassment that suddenly overtook her, at the thought. Love- that was something that she knew was out of her limits, no matter how much and how far she had pushed them. It was as unreachable as the sky-high heavens that stretched farther than even a telescope could possibly see. It was something that she could not even _hope_ to aspire to.

Frantically, the exorcist shook her head frantically, not noticing the quizzical looks Rabi had shot her, small and quizzical looks that darted curiously from over the top of his book. Which had not been turned a single page.

Allen suspected that she was under surveillance, since she had noticed that Rabi had been closer to her than usual, narrowing their proximity at all times, and basically just watching over her. His eyes had secretly trailed her every move, and Timcanpi had been more than leery of him. Allen did not know what his motives were, but she had a gut feeling that he was merely concerned, although Komui might have had a hand in it. Crowley had informed her over lunch, when she had inquired of the redhead's absence after she had left Hebraska, that Rabi had went to see Komui.

She sighed, knowing that Rabi was simply one more to her already humongous and rapidly increasing pile of problems. Problems, problems…It was odd, how such horrendously soft emotions and longings that had absolutely no right to exist in her heart had suddenly just annihilated all rational thought. Love would be a foolhardy self-gratification, something that would only be a burden to her as she continued walking on the path she had chosen to follow. She needed no distractions, as an exorcist. Her only goal was to keep on walking, fighting, and saving- nothing more, nothing less. Somehow, telling herself that over and over only seemed as if it was to reinforce her wilting will- which was NOT wilting, she corrected herself fiercely. Allen felt slightly sad and wistful, almost unsure if she had her priorities correct, in a decision that she had thought she always believed in.

Across from her, Rabi unstrapped his drinking flask from his belt, and deftly pulled the cork out with his teeth with a skill that seemed very well-practiced. He took a long draft, and Allen, fascinated, watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"Hey. Beansprout-chan. Wanna drink?" Rabi licked his lips clean of the residue and offered it to her.

"Ummm…" Allen eyed the flask dubiously, especially the wet rim where Rabi's lips had touched. It was very unsanitary to share the same drink, as one never knew what nasty pathogens one could pick up from coming in contact with the same saliva-contaminated surface, and it deeply violated her sense of cleanliness. She tried not to wince, at the prospect of drinking from it being an indirect kiss as well. Which was something that she would be inclined to pass, thank you very much!

"Co' mn, it tastes really good."

Pathogens, indirect kiss or not, anything that tasted good was fine by her, as she was a slave to her stomach, which ruled nearly supreme over the rest of her body organs. She was always partial to fine cuisine and large amounts of delicious stuff. The love for culinary delights had been inbred ever since Mana Walker had introduced her to chocolate truffles, a grave mistake that he no doubt always regretted since it started little Allen on a sugar-paved journey of cavities, stomachaches from being overfed, and midnight binges. The first taste of creamy chocolate had made her fall head over heels in love with food, While eating a lot was necessary to fuel her parasitic weapon and her unnaturally fast metabolism, food in excess was not very good, and Allen often took her many meals to extremes.

Apprehensively the female exorcist took the flask, and imitated Rabi in taking a long, appreciative swig, chugging the unknown, allegedly delicious liquid down. When the bitter taste finally hit her taste buds, she had already imbibed a good amount into her stomach, the initial shock on her tongue being only surpassed by the strong stench of alcoholic fumes that assailed her nose.

Allen wheezed, clutched her throat, and progressively emptied her stomach of what she had just drank, spitting it with little regard for dignity across the cabin into Rabi's face, much to the latter's utmost surprise.

"Bleargh!" She gasped, wiping her mouth off with her handkerchief, spluttering and trying to get every last bit of the unfamiliar, horrible taste off her person. "What on earth was that! Rabi, I honestly don't see why that-that- absolutely vile concoction could be delicious."

"It's called absinthe. An alcohol they drink in Europe. Authors and accomplished literati drink it. It is really good," The bookman-in-training maintained indignantly, wiping his face off with a yard of silk which he had stowed in one of his impossibly deep pockets. "that is, once you get used to the initial bitterness of the essence of wormwood that's in it…"

"God…wormwood…I don't even want to know what that stuff is…" The other replied feverishly, now chugging plain water down at an alarming speed to rid her mouth of the bitterness. "If it is anything like what its name implies, I'm going to throw up…"

"Gah. Get away from me then."

"And you're a bit young to drink, aren't you?"

"Huh?" Rabi looked at her incredulously, a hint of condescending disbelief on his face. "No one's too young for a bit of liquor. Yuu-chan and I have been drinkin' since we were little kids. Around five, six years, I guess…we met when we were eleven? Twelve? Can't remember, it's all so long ago…"

Allen allowed Rabi to go on an entirely different tangent recounting how he and chibi Kanda had raided the order kitchens and made off with some beer, which had induced their first hangovers. Kanda being a kawaii child was something that she could not imagine, and especially having short hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she gave the dozing exorcist a quick glance, relieved to find him still senseless and snoring softly against the window. Neither she nor Rabi had death wishes, which would have came true whether they wanted them or not if Kanda woke up to discover them laughing over tales of his childhood.

"So Panda beat the crap out of you two for drinking?" She chuckled, as the redhead continued swigging.

"You can see the scars, man. Boxed our ears till they rang. Master Tiédeur wouldn't touch Kanda, since he's nice and all, but shit, Panda did more than enough on the two of us. But that didn't stop us from drinking more. Adults. More trouble with them than they're actually worth."

"Adults, hm. You're going to be one soon, right?" Allen couldn't help but laugh at Rabi's petulant pout, and doubled over as a spasm of pain passed through her midriff. The stuff was restricted for a reason, and after many years of living with the hard and heavy drinker Marian Cross, Allen was more than aware of what alcohol could do to a perfectly fine human being. Having to drag the exorcist general home after a late party at which he had imbibed more than he could have tolerated was quite a nuisance, and embarrassing as well since the man was twice her size and weighed as if he carried lead in his pockets. All in all, it had made for excellent talk among the neighbors in every country they had ever went to, the gossip circulating about in all different languages. Needless to say, Cross's fondness for both alcohol and smoke would one day be the death of him, as he was effortlessly dealing double the damage to his body. Add his womanizing habits to the list…Exorcist or not, the man was practically digging his own grave.

"What, you can't hold alcohol, is that it?" Rabi asked, his one eye wide and reflecting his distress that she had been deprived of one of the most wonderful substances in the world. "Or…don't tell me you've never drank before."

"…"

They must have had a depraved, deprived childhood if they had been exposed to the horrors of alcohol so young, Allen reasoned. The many years of illegal drinking after their first experience of alcohol must have destroyed many brain cells, especially in children like them, and the circumstances were inevitable. The results were overwhelming, including many health problems that would no doubt be hard to cure, like for instance irreparable damage to the liver and early onset of dementia, not to mention vermian atrophy. While Rabi was fairly intelligent, a fact which could have also been attributed to the Bookman's guidance, Allen could certainly observe the effects of early drinking on Kanda, who being the demented touchy prick that he was…what an asshole, if she said so herself. But nice, polite, cursed Allen Walker would never say that aloud in public, would _he_? At least not in a ten foot radius of mentioned black-haired boy, who was dangerous even when in dreamland. She was smiling outside, but dying inside at the same time, and Allen Walker was nothing but the face which she presented to the judgment of the world- an unreal smile which was good, for the most part.

"How can you stand the taste!" Allen muttered, taking yet another deep draught of water from her own flask and coughing. "It's so bitter, ugh…"

"Actually, I added more sugar to it than the traditional method requires. There's a certain way you hafta drink it, y'see…tradition and all that…" Rabi said nonchalantly as he went back to his book, unfortunately turning his attention away a little too soon to be able to dodge the next occurrence. Allen promptly spat the water out in surprise, drenching him once more. "Yah! Beansprout-chan! Geez, not again."

"Gomen, gomen." Allen mumbled, almost incredulously. That…stuff actually had sugar in it! Everyone had always viewed Rabi as slightly eccentric, but when she had thought that he couldn't possibly get any odder, he always managed to surprise her with something even more out of the ordinary which she had expected from him. But then again, when it came to the impeccable redhead, nothing could ever be considered ordinary, and he just surpassed her expectations every single time. As for authors and literati drinking the stuff, she supposed that Rabi would not be able to be counted among their intelligent lot even if he drank it, although he was considerably knowledgeable given how many books he read in order to train for fulfilling the Bookman position.

"We will be arriving shortly at Platform 2, in Vienna, Austria. Passengers may start claiming their luggage from porters, if they so chose to put it in the train storage." The raspy voice of the conductor crackled on the speakers in their train compartment, the sound quality rivaling Kanda's wireless golem's in incoherence.

"Eh? We're already there?" Rabi murmured, lifting his eye from the first page in his wet book, from where he had not made any progress. The first page was still unread, his mind lingering somewhere else on matters that were more urgent. "Oi." His gaze cut across the room to Kanda, who was slumped against the wall next to the window, where he had finally succumbed to his fatigue. "Yuu-chan, get up."

"Mmnn…Hmph." The Japanese exorcist mumbled in his sleep, and Allen wondered if that was his favorite phrase, even in the world of dreams as it was in the world of the living.

"Beansprout-chan, wake him up." Rabi told her, as he began fishing around in his pockets for the address where they were supposed to go to, to meet the exorcists whom were already in Vienna.

"Kanda. Get up. It's time to leave." She said shortly and blandly. Rabi looked at her as if she was being an idiot, and motioned impatiently for her to shake him.

"Kanda?" She poked his shoulder, hesitantly, almost afraid of the consequences that may occur to her if he woke up and was annoyed at her. "Kanda?"

Prod. Prod. Poke poke. She would have thought it was fun, annoying him like that, if she wasn't so afraid that he would chop her in two and if she didn't feel so hungry. One obsidian eye flickered drowsily open, and immediately narrowed into a glower at her. She immediately withdrew the offending finger from irritating his person before it could be bitten off or slashed off, both notions of which were very much undesirable. Allen tried hard not to shrink back from the venom in that look, and retreated back to her seat.

"Kanda, we're almost there." She said, pressing a hand subtly on the pain that lanced across her stomach.

"I know, I heard you the first time, brat." His voice was as frigid as ever, but she had long before gotten used to it, and shrugged it off.

Sighing, she fastened her cloak clasps, and moaned. Allen was hungry, her stomach craving the substance she usually would have gotten from a midnight snack. But it being a mission and all, she did not think it prudent to get up to food-hunt at such an ungodly hour as three in the morning. Doubtlessly the dining car would not serve enough of it to satisfy her anyway, that was if it was even open at all. Being a member of the Black Clergy, Allen knew that she could possibly pull a few strings and/or wheedle her way into getting her way, but she did not feel that abusing her power like that was justified, and such an action would moreover stain the responsibility she carried upon her shoulders as an exorcist. Besides, whatever they served on the train was probably none too tasty, and the food in Vienna was probably worth the wait. Allen really liked European foods; Master Cross had brought her a few years ago to Italy, where she had wallowed in a heaven of gelato, lasagna, spaghetti, and all sorts of authentic noodle cuisine until he forcibly tied, gagged, and dragged her off to Spain…where, once she was freed and had gotten over whining about leaving Italy, she continued filling her bottomless gut with tortillas, paella and gazpacho.

Discreetly, the exorcist slightly lifted up her shirt to peer at her stomach, nearly losing her normally insatiable appetite at the sight. She was almost sickened at what she saw, the pale skin there being a mass of unsightly purples, reds, and blues, spreading beyond the area where Rabi had wrapped. No doubt she had ruptured more blood vessels under the skin than she had thought, and perhaps tore a muscle or two.

"Holy shit, Beansprout-chan." Rabi stated grimly. "That sure as hell does not look good."

Timcanpi, alighting on Allen's head, seemed to think the same. Gripping the end of her shirt in its little teeth, it tugged it down to hide her stomach from prying eyes. Allen stroked its little round knob of a head with a single fingertip, smiling at the golem's protectiveness. No doubt it was all because of Cross's orders to remind her to hide her true gender, but Allen would like to think that Timcanpi was doing it out of friendship as well.

"Do you think there's any chance we can pick up breakfast on the way to wherever it is that we're supposed to go to?" Allen asked hopefully.

"Hmmm?" From his vague tone, she could tell that he not taking her seriously and was more focused on finding whatever he was looking for in his pocket. The pocket so happened to be nearly as bottomless as her stomach, so she hung her head dejectedly and eyed Rabi with the hopeful eyes of a puppy. Mark that one hungry little puppy. Who was ready to bite if she would not be fed for another hour or two.

"We're going to the Stephansdom. It's a huge cathedral, where the remaining two apostles in Vienna had set up camp, it seems." Rabi explained, finally finding and taking out the sheet of orders and reading it. "So, if you're lucky, there'll be some stands selling things. If I recall correctly, their _apfelstrudel _and _knödel_ are quite delicious."

"Thank God, food! But…what are those? Ap-what?"

Rabi laughed at her befuddled look, and the prominent question mark that hung over her head. Allen could only scratch her head in confusion, since Master Cross had not taken her to Austria before in all their extensive travels. "Wow, Rabi, you know German? Or whatever it is that they speak here."

"We've been to Vienna before." Kanda said tersely.

"Wow. So where's the best place to eat?" She asked eagerly.

"Hmm, that's a good question, Beansprout-chan. Go to the _Naschmarkt- _it's a night market—that is, if you want fresh stuff, but I'd recommend that you go get a sausage at any old stand. They're the _best_ sausages in the world, you have to try them…do you drink? There's nice pubs, I guess, Yuu-chan and I used to go around to them sometimes to sneak a few drinks, an'…"

The white-haired girl stored all that information away in her mind for potential later usage, since she found it unusual that the two eighteen-year olds would be drinking on the job, and as exorcists no less. Even stranger, while she could visualize Rabi relaxing and generally hanging out at a bar, she did not think Kanda to be the type to do so. He was too stiff, with a certain elegance that was always attributed to him, something that set him apart from other people in a distinct way. Allen was not sure whether that was good or bad, but she had not been unaware of the somewhat beautiful, natural grace that always accompanied his every move… and how cold and absolutely ugly his manner, in sharp contrast, was. If she was a normal girl, Allen reluctantly admitted privately to herself, she would have been attracted by his physical appearance. But being no normal girl and an exorcist who worked side by side with him, she could safely concluded that Kanda Yuu was perhaps one of the most foulmouthed and coldhearted creatures she had ever had the misfortune to meet, and one of the most frustrating. Not one day passed that she did not think of his frustrating self, and how hard-pressed she was to maintain that idiotic grin and not rip him apart on the spot. Of course, that idiotic grin had not always helped, Allen mused thoughtfully, ruefully recalling the events of yesterday morning.

"Oi. You two. This is not a joyride. We are here to do our jobs, not _sightsee_. We are exorcists and not tourists." Kanda was obviously angered at their exchange, and Allen noticed that he was gritting the words out between his teeth, a sure sign that he was about to get violent. Already the vein marks were showing on his forehead, and his frostily handsome features were screwed up in anger.

"Are the sausages here really that good?" She asked him innocently, ducking preemptively so as to miss the swift, merciless slice of Mugen that, as she had anticipated, slashed at her head. "Ouch."

The impact of her body hitting the floor hurt, especially from the speed she had dropped down to avoid mugen. Allen ruefully looked up at him from where she sat on the floor, where she had avoided the otherwise killing blow, and clutched her stomach. Rabi was snickering at Kanda, and Kanda was fuming as he skillfully returned mugen back to its scabbard, sliding it back in easily.

"You're as annoying as always, Beansprout."

Allen frowned at the way he spat out the unaffectionate title, as if it was some insult. "Hey. I told you my name was Allen. A-L-L-E-N."

"It's all the same- you'll never last long."

"More than what you expected, at the very least, which was one month." Rabi inputted, not without a trace of glee, Allen noticed.

The way Rabi called her Beansprout-chan gave her a different feeling. Being small for her age, and most of all female, the exorcist knew that her body appeared to be too skinny and scrawny to male eyes. Hence the title of 'Beansprout.' The white-haired exorcist didn't mind it, really, even with the attached honorific, since it was after all used for girls or was an affectionate term. It was also used as a diminutive for children, but she did not quite mind that either, as Rabi was a bit older than her, but only by two years or so. Rabi calling her Beansprout was in a nice, friendly way. However, Allen got an entirely different sense when Kanda called her that, minus honorific. It was meant to be insulting, while Rabi was being the friendly spaz that he was. So while she accepted Rabi calling her a beansprout, she could not help but take offense at the same title coming from Kanda. The exorcist supposed that to other boys, she could be classified as a Beansprout, but hearing it from someone else made it all the more offending, and in such a context as well.

"Hmph. You and your bottomless stomach…"

Kanda was complaining again, and she fought to keep herself from strangling him, her teeth clenched tightly behind stiffly, awkwardly grinning lips. She was also very much tempted to sic Timcanpi on him as well, but the little golem was lethargically sitting on her head and would most likely refuse to take her orders anyhow.

"I would think that we would need food to gain strength to fight akuma." She pointed out, getting to her feet and brushing off the seat of her pants as the train rolled to a screeching halt into the station, stopping at Platform 2. The rumbling stop jolted her back and forth on her feet, her head snapping backwards correspondingly.

And even with all his anger, Kanda could not manage an answer to that obvious fact. "Che." Was all he said, much to Rabi's amusement, and Allen knew that she had won, at least temporarily.

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Thanks as always for reading, even though I'm unproductive and chapters take pretty long to come out.

Please review! ♥


	18. Unwanted Past

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray man, Hoshino Katsura does.

Yet another chapter up! Gah, I wasn't too happy with it (but then again I'm usually never happy with what I write). This chapter's a bit on the short side in my opinion, doesn't tell much, and is generally unsatisfactory. However, it does lead up to a important part of the plot, that focuses on Allen's past. Rabi's past will come later in the arc, still workin' on that...Anyway, please do review as usual.

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18. Unwanted Past♥

_8: 20 AM; Vienna, Austria_

The many people in the station, the majority of men whom were smoking pipes, contributed to the overall irritation that the exorcist felt upon leaving the train and stepping straight into an entirely new world of chaos and noise. Those were two things that hurt her ears to no end and set her akuma-sensing consciousness on an entirely different level of wary alertness for any potential threats to the civilians. There were no dangers lurking in the crowd, as far as she could sense, and she allowed her cursed eye to stay in its normal, humanoid state without bothering to activate it for a quick cursory scan. Sourly, she wondered if most of Vienna's air pollution could be attributed to the station, for the air was filled with the stench of stale cigar or pipe smoke from the many smokers waiting for their respective trains to arrive, or the heavy soot of the trains themselves. However, she saw fit to keep her comments to herself, since they were nasty and she didn't want to hurt any people who might understand English. She wrinkled her nose, the dusty scent of coal that powered the engines making her choke on her breath. Allen gagged at the overwhelming scent, even though Master Cross's habitual smoking had for the most part accustomed her to it. There was a big difference between pipe smoke and coal smoke, however, the former being lighter and imbued with a sort of powdery fragrance, not entirely pleasant but not enough to make her retch and die. Which she felt like doing, since she was hungry and was afflicted with internal bleeding, exhaustion, and worst of all her makeup was in danger of being ruined beyond repair, giving the humidity that had accompanied the rainfall the night before their arrival. The sky had opened shortly a few hours ago, and a good clear sun was shining down, throwing haphazard rays that bounced off the shiny metal of steel engine parts and lining pools of water that had gathered on the platform with a light glitter.

The platform was squeezed with people leaving the train, and being greeted by their loved ones jabbering in a language incoherent to her British ears. Allen watched Kanda's face crinkle slightly in a small grimace, he no doubt wishing that people kept their reunions in more secluded areas so others could have room to walk. There was more usage of face muscles in frowning than smiling, and she was firmly convinced that he would have wrinkles before he hit twenty. People kept on accidentally bumping into her, and her injury hurt from all the abuse, not to mention that she was completely famished.

All of a sudden, a small figure bowled into her and almost sent her toppling backwards into Rabi, who awkwardly stopped in midstep to avoid plowing into her. The redhead staggered, and struggled to regain his footing in the surge of people that threatened to push them forward. Behind him, Kanda cursed, having walked right into Rabi's back. As people were wont to do, the two exorcists immediately began bickering and trying to pin the wrong on the other with insubstantial excuses that boasted many words and lacked whatsoever conviction. Allen, oblivious of the two arguing over whose fault it was, looked down to see that a small blonde child had stuck himself to her boots, his chubby little arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Ignoring the pained protests of her body, she bent down to his level, so they were head to head. Her ribs cracked painfully and the exorcist could envision them breaking, but that was an exaggeration anyhow and she reasoned that the injury was not as bad as it appeared to be in the mirror.

"Hello, what's your name?" She asked, as gently as possible so as not to scare him. Huge, blue eyes stared up at her. "Are you lost?"

"You're not the tall oneesan wit the scary face." The boy lisped, eyes widening.

"I'd sure hope my face isn't scary." Allen commented. "So you're looking for someone? I'm sorry, you got the wrong person then…"

"That." The boy pointed at her cross, boldly emblazoned on her cloak.

"Huh?"

"Oneesan has the same."

"So she's an exorcist?...Are you sure it's a oneesan and not a girly oniisan?" Immediately, Allen whipped her head around to stare at her fellow exorcists. Rabi was quivering with laughter, his shoulders vibrating under his heavy cloak. He sson lost his pretense of keeping a straight face and roared out loud, causing many a bystander to shoot him startled looks as they passed. The people of Vienna, because of their rather substantial tourist population at any given time, were thankfully too used to foreigners (i.e. lunatics/idiots whom possessed no manners) to actually spare them more than a passing glance. Kanda was shaking as well, but Allen guessed that it was in anger. He stared at the little boy as if he was some sort of freak, and she saw his right hand twitch and come precariously close to mugen's hilt. Allen gave him a sly smile; payback was one big bitch, and he deserved it after he tied her bandages too tight.

"So what do you say, 'tall _oneesan _with the scary face?'" She said, a little too innocently, sweetly so as if to give the entirely false impression that she could be accused of no wrong. Her expression was perfectly angelic, perhaps a little too much for his liking since he twitched and shot her a glare.

"Oneesan!" The child, spotting Kanda, burbled happily and removed himself from her ankles in favor of attaching himself like a red-velvet clad leech to the black-haired exorcist, much to Kanda's obvious embarrassment and disgust. The crowd behind them pushed and shoved to get past the exorcists' obstructing the middle of the platform, cursing in rapid German. However, once they spotted the Rose Cross and Kanda's irate vein pop, they all quickly vanished off to find alternate routes, much to Rabi's apparent amusement- something that quickly vanished as Kanda turned his smoldering glare of death upon him in turn. Allen

"What are you doing here? Where's your mother?" The eighteen-year old growled. "And I told you I was not an oneesan."

"Sowwy. Oniisan. I'm wost."

"Again!"

"Again?" Rabi chuckled nervously, elbowing Kanda hard in the chest. "Well, Yuu-chan, go find her for him a second time. You know what she looks like now, right?"

A second time? Allen nearly choked on her tongue, so hard was she trying to suppress her laughter. Whoever thought that Kanda was capable of helping others? Or perhaps he had a soft spot for little children, but she thought that that was highly unlikely given his mean disposition, angry face, crude manner, and rough tongue.

"Come to think of it, Beansprout-chan," Rabi remarked out of the blue. "the little kid looks a bit like you. There's a resemblance. Could you possibly have a long-lost brother?"

"But I'm not a blond. I used to be a brunette, before I was cursed and my hair went white." Allen said dumbly, cocking her head slightly to observe the little boy. "And I was an orphan, until my adoptive father picked me up."

"But what if someone in your family had carried a gene for brunette? Blonds are recessive, y'know, so there is after all a possibility that you'd…."

Come to think of it, she mused as Rabi rambled on about traits and dominance and whatnot, there was a certain vague resemblance, although she was not too sure because of the child's baby fat roundness of the face. The eyes however, were almost indisputably identical to hers, nearly a mirror image. The child's was the same exact shade of blue, a light crystalline color that was very pale, it was almost likened to ice or the shade of the clearest, cloudless sky. Looking at the pupils more closely yielded a realization that there was a streak of intensity running through them, an inner determination not unlike her own, she had to grudgingly admit.

Allen eyed him doubtfully; even if she had family that still existed, past hurts did not want her to recognize them. After all, she had been cast out by her blood parents, since she had an arm that was said to be the devil's work, an arm that was unusual and automatically made her a monster in the eyes of everyone else.

She felt Kanda's sharp gaze on her, comparing her to the little boy; no doubt he had also seen the strange parallels between their eyes, since his mouth quirked into an appraising thinlipped expression of thinking- something that the exorcist was not wont to do often, as mugen had been his constant solution to everything. Allen scowled, and bent down to the little boy, who hung onto Kanda despite his best endeavors to get him off.

"What's your name?" She asked sweetly, with a smile.

"E-Edmund Kingsley." The boy stuttered back, his voice stumbling over the syllables with his childish imperfection in pronunciation, an innocently flawed rendition of his own name that no doubt was imitated from those whom called him that.

"Well, Edmund, this scary oniisan is going to help you find your mother, so just stay put." She replied cheerily, darting Kanda a pointed look. Rabi guffawed. "And the redhead oniisan will help too, won't he?" The exorcist added, not without a carefully concealed evil grin.

Rabi paused in his belly-clutching throes of laughter, and stared at her with a priceless expression of dismay and shock. Allen looked back innocently, amused by the many expressions that played over the redhead's face, from shock to anger, before they settled on nervousness.

"Um, I don't think that's, um, necessary…" His voice trailed off miserably, as he began backing away slowly, before he came face to face with mugen's blade, which hovered dangerously around the vicinity of his neck, preventing him from leaving. "Aa. Ha. C'mon Yuu-chan. Just put it down, nice an' easy does it…no, point that sharp end somewhere else…it isn't needed, heh…"

And indeed it wasn't. Rabi was saved from such bothersome trouble, for a women wearing a red dress hurried over, her heels clicking frantically on the train platform. She was lovely and feminine, her slender body lithe as she moved, the high heels she was wearing posing quite a hindrance to her movement as they pinched and unbalanced her feet. Her beautiful, distressed face lit up when she saw the little boy clinging to Kanda.

"Edmund!" She swept the child up in her silk-covered arms, and smothered him with kisses that left traces of red lipstick upon his face. Allen tried to hide her laughter by disguising it as coughs when the lady swooped upon Kanda, who managed to elude her embrace much to Rabi's scoffing. The exorcist ducked behind Rabi to hide from Kanda's sharp-as-mugen's-blade glare, one that warned her of dreadful and consequences if she dared make a peep.

The lady appeared to be a very well-off English noblewoman of refined tastes and high social status, as Allen could easily see from her expensive trailing dress of a fine dainty silk trimmed with lace. Elaborate with an embroidered low décolletage and lacey layers requiring plenty of petticoats and hoops to keep its shape, the dress was most likely one of the latest fashion. Pale golden hair was upswept in an ornately decorated heap upon her head, and the gold filigree locket that rested above where her rather large bust was looked quite costly. Behind her, Allen heard Rabi's low whistle at her luxurious appearance, and his eye automatically and hungrily fasten on the front of her dress, which was amply filled out. The exorcist sniffed disapprovingly; being a girl, she had always been confused with males' fixation with females' mammary glands. Rabi's glands were running away with him, and Allen could almost uneasily visualize the hearts of his smitten mind floating around his head.

The woman had delicate features, pale and refined. But what had held Allen's attention most was the pair of pale blue eyes, eyes that were so eerily and uselessly familiar. The similarities between those eyes and her own were striking, and frighteningly so.

And, much to her horror, the woman obviously thought the same too. Her eyes, softly shadowed with a tint of pale pink eyeshadow, stared into her own- intense, frightening, unbearable. Allen drew back slightly, at the sudden odd look-recognition, perhaps?-that flashed across the other female's eyes.

When the woman spoke, ending with her soft voice the awkward silence that seemed to have descending from nowhere, Allen was abruptly petrified with curiosity that compelled her to stay rooted in place. The sense of familiarity that lingered about the woman hit her in the face with full blast, as Allen desperately racked her mind to search for the possible causes. It frightened her; her mouth was dry with an almost horrified expectancy.

"Elena? Is that you? What on earth have you done to your eye! And that hair, my, what a color! I've never seen it before in my life!"

"Wait-I'm not-"

Her halfhearted protest was cut off, and suddenly she was encased in a warm, tight hug, one that had her gasping in pain because of her injury. The woman sprang upon her, trapping her against a rather large and bouncing cleavage in a decidedly feminine hug- warm, unselfconscious, and unembarrassed of such intimacy. The exorcist squirmed, thinking of how to extricate herself without offending the lady.

"Eeek…" Allen grimaced as the stranglehold on her body tightened, even as she struggled. It was too close, her cover would be blown, if her chest bindings were not tight enough. Panicking, she tried to worm her way out, but she couldn't. Wouldn't. Did not want to, almost. And then Allen stopped thinking, letting herself be held, in warm, accepting arms. Letting the woman's perfume, a soft delicate fragrance, wrap around her in little unseen tendrils that she was _almost_ certain she had smelled before.

Allen was suddenly reminded of something strange, tugging at the back of her consciousness though she knew not what it was. She'd lied to her self, learned the art of deception so well that she could easily delude everyone else and herself as well, which was a pity since denial only prolonged the suffering. It would have almost become an excellent topic upon which to meditate, the willingness of human beings to fool themselves to forget the pain, had it not been so twistedly ironic that the damage was only greater. She did not want to remember.

Of days of contentness and warmth, of a world that she had all but forgotten, long ago. With the surreal impression that she was protected and that no harm, no akuma nor Noah, could possibly hurt her- something that had not been possible for a long time. Such memories were locked within her being, but she was loathe to reach out and actively enable herself to once more to relive them, even though she harbored a perverse want to know them. The exorcist did not know what possibilities they could hold for her, and what consequences it might mean for her if she rediscovered her past- something that came only in fragmented disjointed and uncomprehensible. What Allen remembered of them, however, was of little significance, hazy and weird. Like a dream.

Like a nightmare.

Fleeting and a mere ghost of a passerby lingering in the night, gone by morning as the first drops of dew shone on the grass; as unrealistic as only the imagination could be, the boundary between what was a figament of her own creation and her true past distorted beyond repair. Obscure. vague.

It all wasn't real, was it?


	19. Mother

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man.

Author's Note: Sorry, late update. I'm been so busy lately. i'm not even sure if I'll be updating next week, since I have lots of school stuff to do. So I'll update if I can- don't worry, I intend to finish this fic. It's just that updating may not be as easy as it once was for me in the previous chapters. Really really really sorry. And thanks for the many reviews!

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19. Mother

Curiosity was a wonderful thing, that is until the truth is discovered and it simply blows the mind away with the magnitude of its implications. It was at times like this that Allen felt her intuitive sense completely overtaken by her impulsiveness, and although she was leery of finding out the truth behind this woman, she desperately needed sate the inquisitiveness that had been piqued in her by a random stranger on a random train platform at a random time in a random place. She did not feel fear so much as apprehension, but being so suddenly caught up in a tight, tender embrace, she could not help but wonder if the woman was some long lost relative.

Who was this strange woman, who suddenly with her appearance had invoked such emotions and suspicions in her? People, especially highborn women of great wealth, did not just stop to take a random bystander in a large embrace; it was so out of the ordinary and implausible, that in any other situation, Allen would have had a good laugh at the sheer spontaneous-ness of it all. That was, if her ribs were not currently being squeezed so tight she was almost sure that her internal bleeding injury that she had sustained earlier was probably getting worse and worse.

Despite the suddenness of it all, it was for the first time that anything had resembled normality in her life. The warmth from the embrace was softening her heart, even as she fought to keep herself from panicking and ripping herself away from the overly comfortable feeling of being simply held. She had watched other little girls when she was younger, playing with dolls and wearing pretty dresses, while she could only wistfully imagine such a childhood from the shadow of her half-curtained window, from where she shyly peeped out through the ripped white linen cloth into a strange world where everything was normal with only her as an exception. It had seemed completely natural, unlike the pretense of being a boy that she was keeping up, and her lonely existence in a dysfunctional past. She watched her peers play in the sun, til they were called home by their mothers whom would plant a huge smacking kiss on their sweaty and grimy foreheads and tell them to go take a shower, with only the daring that mothers could muster up to ever touch that filthy skin of their children with their lips.

Having no maternal influence, Allen grew up in a world of men, and learned all she needed to know from men. Mana was a wonderful father figure, but he could never substitute the nurturing motherly touch that she knew was missing from her life, him instead making do with an irrepressibly male, but still gentle, awkwardness when handling children. Allen had found his gentleness and fatherly protectiveness comforting, but it lacked the softness of a mother, something that she craved to know. Something had always been amiss with her dysfunctional family life, and she had believed it to be a complete loss of femininity to balance everything out in the way only a woman could do to a household.

Master Cross was worse, and not even a paternal figure in the very least, bringing countless women home and disposing of them and continuously replacing them so fast to sate his sex appetite that Allen had never really had any chance to interact with other females and learn more about what it really was like to grow up as a girl. However, now that Allen thought of it, those women were not likely to be role models that she could possibly look up to. For the most part, the only thing enviable about them was breast size. Maybe. Buying bras/corsets were never necessary really since Allen had already bound her then still fairly small breasts down, but she'd never forget the utter humiliation when she had her first period at twelve and nobody was there for her to quell the rising panic that something was completely and drastically _wrong_ with her body, a misconception that was completely natural since her abdomen had been dully throbbing, and she had been _bleeding_. Heavily. And from a place that shouldn't have been bleeding either. Was she going to die of blood loss?-She'd remembered the fear of death that had overcome her then, something more powerful than any akuma could invoke in her now, and the hopeless anticipation that all people dread the end with. Moreover, she had recognized her youth and just being twelve, the fears that she would not be able to explore the possibilities of life had terrorized her to no end at the time. It was not dying that she was entirely scared of, but the actuality of _not being alive_. At the time, Allen had little to live for, but for nothing but the sake of fulfilling her promise to Mana Walker: to never stop walking, never no matter how hard the journey was and how arduous her trials were.

It would be a waste of her life if she had died without making good on her unspoken word to her father.

Being male and not inclined to say anything that would alleviate her worries, Cross had only blinked at her over his pipe and casually told her to start being a little more careful and for God's sake remember not to get pregnant since that would add to his expenses and she wouldn't be able to gamble for him for a year… yadda yadda yadda. As if she even had known how people got pregnant then, her innocent young mind completely pure and blissfully unknowledgeable of adult matters. And the lecture had went on and on, and poor little twelve-year old Allen had cried because she didn't know what was happening to her body and she didn't like it either.

A young girl needed her older female role model to whom she could look for guidance, and in her entire young life, the exorcist had never found anything that resembled that in the very slightest. However, now, she felt a little tinge of emotion in her heart, a warmth that suddenly infected her and made her sense that she was where she was supposed to be, that made her feel as if she belonged, as if everything was the way they should have been. Normal. Ordinary. For a moment there, she forgot completely of her mission, of Vienna, of the Earl, of Kanda and Rabi. She resembled any other teenage girl who wasn't an exorcist, went to school, and had friends; like any other girl whom had a mother to love her. The weight of the world dissipated from her shoulders, the burden of her past and her own sinful cross gone at least temporarily.

The embrace reminded Allen of a warm safe place where every child took haven in, simply pure and innocent in its acceptance of a monster like her. It was maternal, and unconditionally accepting, so much that she wanted to tear herself free, so as not to taint the woman with her sinful presence. Her heart craved nurturing, but Allen was adamant in denying herself even that, for all the atonement she had before her on her path as an exorcist. Face shadowed, Allen firmly but gently removed herself from the hug, a much difficult task since it had all the strength of a death grip. Her face composed in what could only be described as a neutral expression, she stood back. The evident hurt on the woman's face, although expected by her, was like a slap in the face, and tore at her already bleeding heart which was even more grievously hurt by her rejection of the affection.

Dead silence. Dead, quite literally, seeing as Rabi's and Kanda's expressions were so slackjawed, to Allen's great vexation, that they would not even have noticed if flies had entered their mouths and taken up permanent residence. Rabi was the first to recover, staring without restraint at the lady.

"Elena?" Rabi scratched his head and looked dubiously at the stricken woman. "Elena? It's a girl's name right? Who's she?"

"You mean, she isn't Elena?" The lady exclaimed. The woman scanned Allen's face, her bewilderment genuine and clear, the pained expression on her face making the younger female flinch.

"She? I'll let you know that I'm a-" Allen gasped out, trying to sound as if nothing had happened and as if she was merely a flustered boy who had been hugged unwillingly. The twitch at the corner of her eyebrow also helped matters, but it was more of having to deny her gender than anything else.

"_He_ was never a she to begin with." Kanda said, wryly, with a smirk. Like son, like mother. But having the annoying little Beansprout sharing in his predicament in being mistaken for a female provided a little comfort, at the very least. He had eyed said exorcist, who looked rattled, at having been nearly suffocated, and in pain. And chuckled some more when Allen had emerged red-faced and choking from the embrace.

"Sorry, madam, I'm not Elena or whoever it is you thought I was." The white-haired exorcist replied, with a little awkward smile, after catching her breath. "I'm _Allen_. Allen Walker. And I'm a um, guy." She added, almost like an afterthought and unconsciously stressing the word, almost as if she was in actuality trying to convince herself that she actually was one, no matter how her soul rebelled. But there was something in her tone that obviously got Rabi's attention, for he looked at her weirdly. She gulped, and hoped that he did not suspect anything although that was in face a rather half-half possibility, as Rabi had been blessed with excellent deducing skills that could be partly attributed to his nosiness. Even after so many years of cross-dressing, referring to herself as a boy was peculiar, sounding strange to her own ears even as she said it.

"Oh." The woman sounded disappointment, her previous excitement suddenly deflated. "I'm sorry…I must have mistook you for someone else. It's the features, I guess. Although come to think of it, I'm not even sure how she looks…I haven't seen her in such a long time."

Allen thought she saw unshed tears shimmering in her eyes, and her heart sank. Had her hopes really been so high, that she was so offended and pained? The woman turned her head away, and just as Allen had suspected, a stray lone tear had slipped down her cheeks and smudged her mascara.

"Elena must be a very important person to you." The white-haired girl said, hesitantly, seeing that Rabi was too uncomfortable and Kanda too confused to say anything.

"She was. My daughter." The lady said plaintively, now dabbing at her brilliant eyes daintily with a lacey handkerchief. Allen sympathetically winced as the woman involuntarily smudged the eyeshadow into a blurry mess around her eye, the pigment sinking deep into wrinkles around the eyelid that had before been unnoticed and carefully concealed with makeup; The younger female's eyes narrowed slightly at the sight, which implicated an implicit comparison with the odd feeling she had that the woman was not completely all she seemed, and that something deeper and darker lay underneath the luxurious exterior. The human body was naught but an outer shell that was meant to deceive, after all. Even as the cosmetics had obscured the deep fold of age, nothing else could be done but the art of concealment- the wrinkle would never be gone, no matter how perfectly disguised the flaw was, and neither would the scar of sorrow that she could almost feel running through the woman's soul. Who was she? There was _some _unknown significance that they would meet so randomly and impulsively on the train station, meeting this one woman and her child out of the hundreds of people packed into the platform. Allen was not a firm believer in fate and its workings, having been a victim of its completely haphazard cruelties, but was not above recognizing its singular coincidental wonders. Science could not prove it, nor could it statistically provide any evidence that would predict their meeting, and their interaction happening would occur only in a millionth of a chance, small and unimportant as a single droplet of water in the ocean, or a tear out of the many she had shed. "Such a sweet, pretty little baby she was."

"What happened to her?" Rabi asked, his tone a little too curious and tactless for Allen's liking. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, since her gut feeling told her to beware. She concluded that it was merely her jumpy nerves, still jangling after her previous encounter with Ticky.

"Elena had lovely brown hair." The woman gestured towards her head, making her again, take a step back so that she was safely behind Rabi who did not seem to mind randomly striking up a conversation with a stranger. "Like melted chocolate. And eyes like his too, so big and blue. I remember my husband used to say that you can see all the sky in them, they were so pretty…"

Next to her, Allen heard Kanda give a little snort, no doubt fed up with a mother's reminiscing about her lost little baby. She secretly agreed, since the way this mother rambled on and on was boring, too long, and reminded her of her parentless state. Not to mention she wanted to go off and find some of the lovely Viennese sausages Rabi had been talking about. The thought induced her mouth to water longingly, but she remained silent and listening out of politeness. All mothers thought that their children were the most beautiful things on earth, and this lady was no exception, going on and on about her beautiful little girl with the soft brown hair and sweet tooth…

"Thirteen, fourteen, or fifteen years…It's felt like an eternity, and I can't even remember…I haven't seen her in that long since I gave her up…"

The mentioned spans of time were about similar to her own in being orphaned, and Allen could not help but feel awkward, as if she was intruding on her private sorrow. The woman continued her ceaseless mourning, with Rabi as her only audience, him listening in rapt attention to her over the noise of the busy train station, and giving little nods of agreement. Kanda hissed in annoyance, shifting from foot to foot and fingers twitching to close around mugen's hilt. Allen could not help but feel a pang in her heart, annoyed as she was at this sudden turn of events that prevented her from getting her precious food, as Elena's sad tale sounded a little _too_ similar to her own. She too used to be a brunette when younger. It was too much, too much, hearing about someone else's suffering that was so akin to her own they could have possibly have been the same person.

"But why did you have to give her up, if you loved her so much, Kingsley-chan?" Rabi was asking, his expression one of genuine concern and sympathy. Kingsley- a British name. Allen's expression darkened, almost imperceptibly, and she was aware of Timcanpi's comforting presence, reassuring as Hebraska's was, at her side.

"Don't encourage her, we have to leave.' Kanda muttered, but no one was listening to him.

"She was defected. The devil's child, an aberration." The woman whispered, lifting her now wet face, running with makeup-stained tears, to stare heartbreakingly at her. Allen started, and gave a little gasp.

"A monster?" She asked, her eyes widening in shock, her voice quavering ever so slightly, as she was unable to suppress the sudden lump that had arisen in the back of her throat. "A monster, who was in the form of a child?"

"No!" The woman's voice, sharp, sobbing, and frantic, was so loud and full of emotion that it was like a backhand across the face. "She was no monster. She was my baby girl. My little angel. She looked so much like you, did you know? Only without the brown hair and you could have been her twin! If she still lived, she would be your age, too- how old are you? Fifteen, sixteen?"

The woman's words seemed accusing, demanding, evoking a myriad of conflicting emotions in Allen's heart that she was simply _unable_ to respond to and resolve, even had she wanted to. Fifteen years ago, a baby girl with wide blue eyes, and who was unjustly thought of as a monster had been cast out…it all added up to an unsolvable equation to which she did not want to know the answer, but yet, was so curious about with a horrified fascination and anticipation that she would realize something that she would never have wanted to realize, in all her attempts to keep herself from sinking into a depression.

"Your baby…you threw her out?" Allen could not help but ask, her voice strained. It was a horrible choice of words, completely tactless and crude, that would have only cut deeper into an already grieving heart, but she wanted to know, and yet did not want to know. "You threw an innocent little girl out, who could not have helped but to be born with a deformation?"

Her voice was coming close to cracking, she knew, but Allen was overwhelmed by the simple cruelty of the little girl's fate. She forgot her hunger and bruised tummy, and they were replaced by a dull ache in her heart. It was something she could never understand, her very own origins from the dirty streets of London, covered with trash and soot from the many factories. She too had been unwanted- and the thought hurt, even now, though she never remembered anything prior to being taken in by Mana.

"Beansprout-chan. That's a little harsh, isn't it?" Rabi's soft voice, full of disapproval, brought her back to her senses, and she gasped in horror.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered. "I know I have no say whatsoever. Forgive me, it wasn't my intention, madam, to offend you. But…" She paused, and bit her lip. "…but I can understand. Your daughter's situation, I mean. I was an unwanted child too, hated and ostracized, abandoned on the streets of London. Like trash."

Saying it aloud herself meant admitting it, and it was a pain far sharper and intense than any wound that she had ever suffered, more than the internal bleeding that was affecting her now. Allen hung her head, embarrassed for the woman and herself, and distraught. "But still, you know," she said in a very low whisper, that almost went inaudible with the ruckus around them on the platform. "you could have kept her. No matter what others think of her, if you're truly a mother."

She remembered little, close to nothing of her past before Mana took her in, her child mind adverse to recalling painful things, as all humans were likely to do. Allen had a feeling they were not completely forgotten, but somewhat concealed in some dark corner of her mind in a cage that she fervently prayed that would never open, although she was terribly fascinated with the possibilities. It was not Elena she was bringing up, in all her righteous fury that only one that had went through the same ordeal could possibly muster in sympathy for another of the same fate. It was herself, a child of unknown birth and parentage, and saved from a life of misery only by a kind man who saw past what a monstrosity she and her arm were to the sad little girl underneath who wanted to be hugged.

"Defected!" Allen's eyes widened as she went on, with all the fury bred from suffering the same injustice, and outrage felt upon the knowledge that another had also suffered the same as well. "That's really harsh to abandon her for it, isn't it? Even if she's disfigured, even if she's cursed, even if she's not what you wanted in a daughter, even if she's ugly and has a hunch!"

Horrified and near to having herself arrested for disrupting the peace with unnecessary and excessive noise, Allen decided to do the world and the many people in the train station a favor and shut up. It did not matter if the subject of matter at hand was the woman's daughter – it was in actuality her own self that she was so vehemently defending. Allen saw herself in every little abandoned orphan, having understood firsthand the loneliness of abandonment and the way she and the rest of these forsaken children of God were set a world apart in their same murky origins, how they were separated from the family they should- no, not should, it sounded too selfish to her own self- but could have enjoyed the company of. Guiltily, she stared at her feet, noticing miniscule things that she never really had deemed worthy of giving attention to. She stared at the ant crawling on her shoes, at the way her socks so fascinatingly crumpled messily around her ankles, and the dull shine of the sun off the patent black leather that covered her shoes. She heard Rabi's breathing next to her, Kanda's hair blowing in the wind, and her own angrily pounding heart, all riled up with emotion. She smelled smoke, people's sweat and the faint smell of woman's perfume again, bringing up again the strange sense of familiarity. Her mind immediately attributed it to a past she did not want to remember.

"Beansprout-chan…"

"…" Kanda was staring at her, a hint of astonishment lacing his cold handsome features. She saw pathos there, and gritted her teeth, grinding them furiously, as if grating her anger into tiny little pieces to swallow and keep down.

"I don't _want_ your sympathy." She said, more harshly than she had intended, an edge to her voice that she had not meant to show. And Allen meant every word of it, for once the meaning true and having no ulterior motive or lying to make others feel better. She needed not some frail emotion that was so vague and meaningless in all its insulting, condescending notion of being 'nice,' especially from someone like Kanda, even, of all people. It sickened the exorcist, a complete blow to the pride that she had forced upon herself, making her feel as if she was unworthy and dirt-low.

"Beansprout-chan! Sorry for my companion's rudeness, he's usually a polite little kid, but recently he's been so rude and all, sorry, really sorry-"

The lady cut Rabi off, and reached out to ruffle Allen's hair, in the way that the young exorcist believed that only a mother would do. The touch was soft, feminine, and warm. She edged away, not entirely loathing the action but still adverse to being touched- although she hadn't be actually complaining before. But now that she remembered her place, and remembered not to allow personal affairs interfere. "It's alright. Poor little thing, you."-Allen hid a snort- "Why? Why were you abandoned?"

"They called me a monster." Allen said simply, looking her in the eye. "But please don't get me wrong. I'm not Elena. I'm a boy."

If she kept on telling herself that, she hoped that sooner or later, she would begin to believe it, and believe that she was not Elena as well. And indeed, even with the strikingly similar histories, Allen did not think she was Elena. She did not _want_ to be Elena, even, since she did not want to know anything of her past that would make her suffer even more. However…even as she hoped to convince herself, realization hit her harder than any physical blow could ever hurt.

"But I'm still curious." The bookman idly twirled nyoibo in his hand with all the skill of a circus magician, it being for the moment toothpick-sized. The handle flipped and danced over his knuckles, dissappeared into his palm and finally he reproduced the hammer from behind his ear. He stuck it in between his teeth, like one would do to a real toothpick, and chewed for good measure. "What was the little girl cursed with, Kingsley-chan? See this cross here on my cloak?- we're the Black Priests, and we take care of weird stuff like that, sort of. I mean, if there had been exorcists around where you lived, perhaps they could have taken care of her. You could have taken her to the Order, y'know."

"She probably could have been a compatible apostle. Parasitic like me." Allen murmured quietly. "I guess that's what they meant by_ monster_."

The word was hateful to her, it being not only a label of derision, but also a title that forever was reminding her of what she was.  
The woman sighed. "She would have grown up into such a lovely young woman, if not for the curse. That ugly thing that hung at her left side. It was red, very ugly. She had a defect of some sort, it was-"

Not believing only prolonged her anxiety and mental suffering.

As much as she did not want to know, her fragmented past, like a shattered unlucky mirror, fell into place piece by piece.

Elena had a defected limb, that was red, scaly, and with black fingernails, embedded with a cross on the back of her hand. The arm stretched up to attach to an otherwise perfectly fine, normal shoulder. She had so many things to say, yet so much she did not want to say, for the woman in front of her was not her mother, or so she kept on insisting to herself, nobody but a stranger. A cruel, heartless stranger, nonetheless. Allen pressed her mouth into a firm, straight line, biting back everything, for both of their sakes. Elena, as she would have liked to believe, died many years ago, and never had to suffer the cruelties of life. And in a way she did.

This woman-Allen refused to address her by name- was naught but a hypocrite, and if she had actually loved her child, she never would have thrown her away. Hate- perhaps it was too strong a word, too extreme and judgmental, but Allen had always believed that her brith family had hated her, if they would leave her to such a fate despite she beign their child. But to believe from speaking with the woman that it was otherwise- was not all her suffering meaningless? The hug the woman had gave Allen was nothing more but a whim, insignificant because of its lack of meaning- heartfelt as the intentions were, Allen would have none of it. Any empathy she felt before entirely evaporated, the only thing remaining being an impartial, jaded view of something she preferred have remained in the past.

Allen had known that the mission would be disastrous after she had been injured not even an hour on the way to Vienna. But Allen would have never foreseen that she would meet up with a very old link from her past, a relation she was not ready to recognize- not with evidence, but the gut feeling told her otherwise. Mother- that word had never been on her lips before, and the word felt strange on her lips as she whispered it softly, in a voice so whisper-light in the air that not even Rabi with his sharp ears could pick it up. _Mother_. It had never been a familiar concept to her family-deprived self, and was not about to be.

But the woman never got around to telling them specifically what the curse had been, and despite that, Allen felt no relief, even though for the time being Kanda and Rabi would still remain thankfully clueless of her true identity and her secret would still be unknown. She was not in the very least reassured, and for a very good reason as well. For a sudden explosion abruptly rocked the station, sending cracks running along the rock floor of the platform, and the vibrations threatened to send her toppling into the tracks. The ground seemed to crawl under her feet, and Allen knew that the enemy had arrived, in scores and scores of troops.

All hell broke loose, and Kanda cursed softly under his breath. "Don't get separated!" He all but roared at her, and Allen winced, realizing the logic of it since she was forever directionally challenged and had the unenviable ability to get lost in any area. However, inertly she chafed at his overbearing presence, which seemed to assert all its prideful snobbishness as ever.

Almost immediately, the exorcist activated her cursed eye, it turning into a flat, large disk-shaped lens that effectively zeroed in and refocused itself to spot the akuma that had risen out of nowhere from the middle of the platform. It was a level two, at the very least, Allen realized grimly. She sized it up, and winced at the multitude of guns that it bore, and its large size. Swiveling her head around, she spotted several more in the screaming crowds of passengers that were on the platform, but only in a humanoid form. An old lady carrying a basket of groceries, a young man in overalls, a little sweet-faced girl in a ruffled pinafore- they were all people, not yet resembling their true ugly akuma forms. They resembled perfectly natural humans, whom might have walked the platform every day, whom paid for their ticket and greeted their fellow passengers with a hearty good-morning. The thought made her sick, both stomach and heart, at the pure normalness of it. That was exactly what she had always felt uneasy about- the normality, which was not something she was used to, since it felt like a disgrace just so calmly passing by with time even as akuma killed more people. The fact that these akuma were considered part of everyday life furthermore sickened her at heart. These artificial beings were just like any other normal person, they walked in the station, carrying luggage and traveled on trains. People they were; they were people corrupted and treated and killed like mere dogs, an absolute insult to the entirety of humanity. It was so purely ordinary- nothing seemed to be significant or dangerous about their tainted presence in the world, mingling among people. They were, after all, only human underneath all the metal, all the guns, all the corruption, and all the stench of death and decaying soul. Even if they still retained a shred of humanity in themselves, they were little more than the heart of the darkness that lay covered and dormant within every person- what they would call the distilled form of 'evil,' be there such a thing existing like that in the world.

The familiar yet uneasy sense of seeing the black and white world of chained souls made Allen queasy every time she saw it, and seeing Kanda's struggling to restrain his repulsed expression, she guessed that he was seeing and feeling the same because of her evolved eye's ability to show it to others. It was an useful technique to utilize, because it gave them an added advantage in battle if they were able to identify enemies first, but she was not all that fond of exposing her allies, whether it be Rabi, Rinali, or even Kanda, to that gruesome hellish sight filled with ghouls and the aura of death.

As she thought, her mind meandered distracted and completely unaware of her physical surroundings, and thus she paid the price dearly. A particularly fat man, wearing banker's stripes, barreled into her and knocked her down with all his momentum and weight.

"Uwah!" She yelped as she momentarily lost her sense of balance, tottering on the thin line of regaining her footing and falling with a sickening splat on the ground, where no doubt she would be trampled most grievously by the herd of stampeding crazed civilians whom probably believed the entire incident to be of all things a terrorist attack.

To her surprise, Kanda roughly caught her, and wordlessly set her back onto her feet, if a bit too roughly, behind him, as if to shield her from the rough ocean of people constantly moving and jamming each other to get to the exits. He was not a person much given to altruism, nor any random acts of kindness, and thusly she had reason for suspicion, edging slightly away from him. A second later, she was entirely glad that she had done that, or otherwise she would have gotten herself roasted to a crisp in the wake of his temper.

"You're useless, Beansprout. Invocate!" he roared, practically breathing fire in her face, the action even more enhanced to its full terrorizing potential by his wildly brandishing mugen, waving it in a dangerous manner that narrowly came too near to chopping off her head. "If you can't go into close combat with that injury, at least try shooting them down!"

Allen did not need to be told twice, his angry face immediately sending her into action. "Innocence, invocate!" She yelled, ripping off her glove on her left hand, and willing it to turn into her full hand, in all its ugliness and dangerous glory. It shot out, for a moment obscuring her vision above, as she raised it above her head as like a warning to all enemies.

Besides her, Edmund screamed, whether in fear of the approaching akuma or her own large red claw, Allen was not sure, nor did she attempt to find out. The red-dressed woman was staring at her, her face one of shock, and horror, not to mention stunned recognizing. Their eyes met, for one instance that she would remember forever, the sight of achingly and meaninglessly familiar eyes locking upon her own and holding her gaze in an action that made the world around them suddenly stop and revolve backwards to a time she no longer consciously remembered much of. Allen's pulse nearly froze at that startled gaze, her heart skipping a beat underneath the bindings on her chest.

"Sorry," Allen murmured, as she picked the two of them up in her large hand and deposited them safely away in a corner where they would not be hurt in the exchange of attacks. She was careful and tender with them, not wanting to inadvertently scratch them with a claw. "can't be helped, since we're under attack right now. But you might as well stay low until the worst is over and the akuma go away."

With a sad smile, the white-haired exorcist started to turn away, and to the battle. Rabi had already invocated his mallet, and had cast his fire seal, a crimson dragon rising from it to soar in battle, and she began heading towards the dancing flames, intent on covering her fellow exorcists. The elemental apparition that the redhead summoned swerved in the air, leaving blazing traces of its path in the sky wherever it moved, and Allen knew that it could not last too long.

"Wait!"

Allen blinked, and looked backwards, questioningly, at the woman, who was now gripping one of her clawed fingers on her invocated arm. Running her hands up and down on the rough, red skin, in a burning touch that was achingly tender, too gentle that Allen wanted to jerk her arm away. The touch was strangely hot, seeping through the skin and straight into the bone, traveling in the bloodstream like molten lava, and finally searing up her entire arm. No matter how Allen wanted to avert her eyes, to avoid from seeing the great difference between her innocence-infused hand and the woman's daintily manicured one, she could not turn away nor could she deny herself from realizing not for the first time simply how much of an aberration she herself was. She was ashamed of the small angry flush on her face, ashamed of her shame and her inability to understand what a great honor and occupation it was to be an exorcist. She could never see it as the great powerful position that many others believed it to be, not when she could see the slim comparisons between her own self and other people whom were thankfully unaware of the Earl's dark shadow (a rather large one, and not just because of his size) looming over humanity.

The white-haired exorcist bit back a little yelp of surprise as the woman touched the bulky black cross burned with the fire of God in her skin, ashamed of the ugliness of the damned weapon, how it was an eyesore, a blight on her otherwise normal body. No girl had such an ugly appendage, and she was more than aware of the contrast between her own hand and those of other women, the striking and unattractive difference that set her a lonesome world apart from them. There was no beauty in death, which was embodied in her hand- as much a part of her as it was anything else. Being forever in the zone of killing ruined one forever for life, and matters like beauty no longer mattered when there were things like life at stake.

"Yes?" The exorcist said, trying to keep her voice level and calm, reassuring and upbeat as usual. She closed her eyes, smiled. She had always found that closing her eyes when smiling hid any seriousness that would not be appropriate and it masked everything else as well. "I need to go fight. If you would like to talk to me later, you can."

"A-Are you Elena? The arm- you have to be her!"

The question stopped her dead in her tracks, and Allen tore her eyes away from the ensuing fight to look at the woman. Not knowing what to say, she gave her a smile, like the sunshine peeping through the clouds on a rainy day.

"Elena? She died fifteen years ago. I am Allen Walker." Allen said casually. "Ja ne, then, I'll speak to you later." _Mother._ But she would never say it aloud, never admit it since that would be succumbing to the false weakness in her heart that needed someone to be a maternal figure to her. Her attempt to keep distant was coming close to shattering, her false coolness cracking on the surface and starting to reveal the turbulence of her mind.

Ignoring the pain in her heart, and on her abdomen, not to mention the churning growls in her stomach, Allen threw two minor akuma out of the way, crushing them in her hand, and rushed to join her friends. At the very least, the train station did not carry such a potent religious and historical legacy as the church had- perhaps some sentimental value but at the moment she did not want to think of the consequences. Kanda and his Machiavellian, ruthless way of carrying out orders had irked her, but to her horror she was becoming more and more like him, as far as destruction of property was concerned during a battle.

One akuma rushed her from behind, and she grasped it in her hand. With a loud growl of frustration, the akuma hit the wall hard, adding a substantial amount of debt to her already heavy bill of damages she had yet to pay off for the destructed church.

One less pot of makeup could she buy even when it was on sale at the local general store.

One life snuffed out by her claws, simply like that.

"Good night." She whispered, as the body was reduced to dust, and the soul finally was freed from its bondage to soar into the peace which it had deserved long ago.

Game over for it, while she would live to fight another day.

In a way, Allen realized that she had become someone else's Millenium Earl, acting upon the same will, the same want to protect her own vision of the world, and how she wanted it to be. Perhaps a world of peace and life was twisted and evil in the Earl's eyes, like one of death and akuma was in hers, and unconsciously she had become no better than him, only selfishly acting upon her beliefs like he was. No matter how she tried to convince herself that he was an entirely different person, completely evil, her mind still nagged herself with doubts, comparing her actions to his Although he had killed, for the purpose of sowing seeds of discontent and sorrow that would lead to more akuma being bred, she herself had killed in the name of setting a captured akuma soul free, and to rid the world of the Millenium Earl. What man was evil, that he would consciously and proudly view himself as evil? It was all a matter of perspective, and from either side, there could be nothing to see but the world divided in black and white for simplicity's sake. The truth was oversimplified, but there was even no one answer.

The exorcist turned her eyes back to the woman crouched pitifully on the concrete platform, placed strategically in a place which was fairly safe providing no akuma wander over. She wouldn't ever let it anyhow, the exorcist thought grimly as she flexed her hand. It was all a matter of perspective, whether it be a person from her past or the Millenium Earl. There were always more than two sides of extremities in every case, and this strange woman was no longer a stranger when she viewed her objectively, with no former feelings to influence any judgment she might exercise. She was but a person who could have been Allen's mother, as the girl realized with a gut-wrenching tinge of regret, whom could have but was not due to some circumstances of fate.

Before she had noticed what was happening, she had accepted the woman, if not as a mother, than something close to that, even though the woman had not the slightest clue of her true identity. In fact, Allen was not even entirely sure, given the unusual circumstances under which they had met. Her inner voice of sullen denial faded away, her heart closing the distance between herself and reality.

Allen's eyes softened imperceptibly, watered, and then reverted back to a cool tired expression, as she wearily went out again to fight on the path that she herself had chosen.

And then she walked away from the woman and Edmund, something that she would regret the rest of her life as long as she lived. At the very same instance, she had unconsciously turned her back upon her past, abandoning it as she continued on her past. But Allen Walker did not know that at the moment, was only concerned with giving her all to the world in releasing the bondage of the akuma souls to where they deserved to be- a most worthy task in her opinion, one that was able to shadow all other duties in her life for the sake of gaining her absolution. Her first exorcism had been her father. Her last, however, was yet a long way from coming.

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"Good night."- is that what Allen really says? ( 0.o exactly like Robin from "Zone"!) I read it on Wikipedia. Someone please confirm this for me? I didn't recall reading it in the manga- but then again my memory is usually at fault and I didn't read a lot of the manga...


	20. Red

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man, Hoshino Katsura does.

Author's note: Huuray for long weekend and Christopher Columbus. Thank God I have tommorow off as well because of Columbus day. I've been sorta busy lately, but I _did_ make some time to watch D. Gray Man episode 1. (And Death Note too but that's irrevelant here) It was interesting, and I'm probably going to be following it through the season. Is it just me or does Allen look a bit...older? Not so chibi anymore. They're probably trying to elevate him to bishounen status to attract fangirls, gah. Doesn't matter though, he's still utterly kawaii. Can't wait for the second ep to come out. ♥

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20. Red ♥

8:55 AM; Vienna, Austria- Platform 2

The idiot was taking far too long, taking his own sweet time to invocate. Kanda was not sure how much longer Rabi's fire seal could last, since neither of them were able to see where the akuma now since Allen and his convenient cursed eye had ran a little distance away, no doubt to drop the woman and child in a safer place, being the _nice_ person that he was. In the fields of war, being nice had little value, since at any moment one ran the risk of being killed and such pleasantries were idiotic and insignificant in the face of greater things.

The tall, black-haired exorcist easily sliced open the head of a level one akuma that rushed him, with claws and all, and swiftly cut through the next two behind him. The pellets of dark energy that cut with supersonic speed through the air his deflected easily off the blade of his katana, which metal held true and steadily strong, meeting the attacks with just as vehement a defense. While his right hand was so occupied, he yanked his scabbard from his belt and quickly used it to block another barrage of bullets that were aimed to the left side of his head- a particularly obvious blind spot that he had purposely left for the sake of diverting the akumas' attentions to. Being merely akuma- he could not see the Beansprout's infamous anxiety over killing them- they had easily been fooled. He had formerly had trouble defending that particular part, since he was never able to being his sword up so fast- which was when resourcefulness had brought his scabbard into play. Although he knew he was not the brightest bulb among the exorcists, he at the very least had a decent handling of battle strategy…but little else.

"Yuu-chan! Heads up, there's a level three in the skies!" Rabi yelled, hammering three akumas into the train platform, quite literally as if they had been just nails for his oversized hammer. His one green eye caught the morning light and retained its shine, but not its warmth.

Sparing the above a quick glance, Kanda saw the huge winged shape of an akuma, bloated and surrounded by many other lower level ones, swooping down in a swift descent upon the train platform.

"Mugen, First illusion!" He yelled, the familiar projectiles streaming forth to counter the oncoming masses of akuma. The insects of the underworld, in all their red-eyed and deadly swarm, sallied forward at their command, bringing a fierce killing atmosphere along with their sudden appearances.

Spontaneously, and so suddenly Kanda cursed at the way it clipped at his ponytail, so dangerously close it had been to him, several bright beams shot past him, joining his horde of insects in the attack. It was incredibly fast and powerful, and he could still feel the burning strength the shots held in the way their passing had whipped his face with a strong wind. The Beansprout stood behind him, arm invocated into a large gun-like form, it smoking slightly from the wide nozzle from the firing.

"You're _late_, Beansprout."

"Sorry, sorry." Again, that idiotic smile which he knew so well flashed in the sunlight which was being overtaken by clouds and akuma.

It was at times like this that Kanda wondered if the infuriating younger exorcist actually meant it at all. But every single time, even when it was just reflex to apologize, Allen always managed to make it significant and sincere, beaming as if he could be accused of no wrongdoing. Which in a way was true, since the boy was young, pure, innocent- everything that Kanda himself was not (except for the young part, but he felt age catching up to him), and he loathed the jarring contrasts that set them worlds apart. He hated that smile, loathed it, but yet was always in an odd way relieved by it.

"Oi, there's a level three up there."

"Level three?" The Beansprout looked a little concerned, his expression strangely shadowed for one with such an innocent, still soft and child-like face. It looked out of place, like the Beansprout always looked in the world, the exorcist cloak too big for him and his heart too soft and naïve. "I'll shoot it down then- arghhhhh!"

Said akuma was currently descending down with a fury justified because of all the holes that the first illusion and other such projectiles had put in him, and Kanda just barely deflected the rain of missiles being fired from above, each shot bouncing off with a metallic cling. The obnoxious Beansprout had just barely leapt out of the way, and was dodging and weaving in an attempt to avoid the bullets, showing an agility that was amazing in all its flexibility and speed, despite his injury. Like some sort of entrancing dance, in all its grace. If only it had hit. Kanda snorted in derision at the near chance that would have ridded him of one of the greatest pests that he had ever had the misfortune to meet. While Kanda was not too keen on murdering the young exorcist in cold blood himself, given that he was still needed for the mission, not having to put up with his love of food at every given opportunity would be something quite welcome, as watching the boy practically inhale and absorb his food was not pleasant. The display of gluttony, frankly to say, always had disgusted him. Allen was simply a nuisance, and most definitely not without reason. But not with too many reasons either.

One of them being that it was impossible to stay mad for too long at a person who was always smiling.

Kanda turned to shoot his customary glare at the Beansprout, who was looking in horror at his invocated arm. "No way…" He whimpered, his face pale with horror and turning a sicklier shade of green by the moment. "My arm…."

Indeed, there was a large slice showing even more dark crimson on the already wine-colored, large red arm. The brutal cut, no doubt from a bullet that had clipped it, stretched alongside the arm almost up to the elbow. All in all, it was a grisly wound that would prove difficult to mend without the cutting-edge technology of the Dark order's labs, which possessed the necessary devices specially made for doctoring parasitic weapons. Parasitic weapons were sensitive, and normal conventional medicine could at times be useless for the injuries typical of exorcists. Although personally Kanda thought that the so-called high-tech tools in the Order labs were little more than high-end construction equipment, with a fine example being the Chief scientist's expensive power drill. "…Chief Komui will have to mend it."

Kanda heard him gulp, hard, and was barely able to keep from strangling the Beansprout, for moaning about personal affairs on the battlefield in such an _unprofessional_ manner. The boy was always so amateurish, placing his own emotions before caution, ideals in favor of personal safety, and heroism above reason.

"Hmph, why don't you just shut up and fight! You're an exorcist aren't you!"

"I don't think I need you to tell me that." Allen replied, not without the hint of a slight gleam to his eyes. He smiled, and cocked his head slightly, in a strangely appraising challenge. "After all…I'm going to protect everything I can."

The other could only shake his head in disbelief. Kanda noticed that the younger exorcist's other hand, the normal human one, was clamped tightly over where he had been injured, as if it had been hurting. Indeed, it was affecting his movement, since the Beansprout did not move as swiftly as he did, as he bounded away to an amassed clutch of akuma with much less spring than he had usually noticed.

"Shit, what is it with all these people!" The platform was being stormed by a massive horde of people struggling to get away from the oncoming guns of death that the akuma wielded. The amount of people, if killed, would be more than enough to allow several of the lower akuma to evolve, which would eventually become a large problem since they were outnumbered, being three exorcists- actually, two and a half, given Allen's wounded and nearly useless state- to the host of akuma that just kept on pouring from the sky. Kanda had never been very good in math, and had even loathed it during his years of schooling despite the stereotype that all Asians were skilled in it. However, he had confidence enough in his nearly inexistent calculation abilities to know that the ratio of akuma to exorcist was too large, a huge gap that would be, despite all their best efforts, quite difficult to narrow.

Skillfully, the ill-tempered exorcist cleaved through the akuma, sparing none and leaving none alive in a six-foot vicinity of his awesome being. He had spent hours upon hours coated in sweat and relentlessly practicing the same sword moves. So many times that he would be able to execute it in the dark with his eyes closed, so as to train the defense and attacks to become an almost second consciousness and reflex which could be applied involuntarily in battle, where there was little time for stimuli to rouse one to action, since by then one would be dead. It was merely the same, over and over again, his finely-tuned muscles conditioned so well to the exact redundant movements that his body worked like a well-oiled machine, one of the many killing machines that were dubbed as 'exorcists.'

The feeling of the metal edge sinking into akuma flesh- if it could be considered flesh, so impure and artificial it was, merely the shell of an imposter who claimed to be human - was familiar, and overly and upsettingly so. Mugen's blade of cold steel held a colder, emotionless intention within its strike, as it effortlessly reduced the bound and tortured souls into nothing but ashes of the dead.

Dead was dead. But the earl had changed the meaning of death, with his creation of akuma, which were no more than horrific reincarnations under the mask of someone who was once alive. Absolutely unlike the cycles of rebirth mentioned in Buddhism or Hinduism. Akuma were akuma. Humans were humans. But an akuma contained a chained human soul. No span of time would ever make killing any easier, but only lessen the amount of time needed. Experience was always the best teacher, and one would always inadvertently get more proficient at something if it was repeated over and over. Killing was something like that, and the sin and painful conscience just faded from mind, but never disappeared.

"Ironic, isn't it. We, the ones closest to God, are the ones who are elbow deep in sin, our hands wet with blood. We aren't the 'Black' order for nothing eh, Yuu-chan."

Dark humor it was, and Kanda absolutely did not need to be reminded of it, nor did he want Rabi of all people to point it out at such a time. The redhead had acquired a slightly dark wit over the years, not without an edge that was apparent to all that had noticed his change from innocent child to shrewd teenager.

"…" There was no need to greet Rabi, especially in the middle of a fight. There was a mutual understanding between the two of them anyway, one that required no words. Spending a lot of time together had bred a sort of connection between them, and their thoughts somewhat alike, their minds alike since they had been shaped similarly in their childhoods as exorcists- Rabi, more insightful and calculating. Kanda, with cold-hearted and unswaying logic. On Rabi's part it had been more verbal and perceptive, but Kanda too shared that same bond. Rabi's voice was little more than a murmur in the screams of others resonating around them, but Kanda heard him perfectly as they pressed their backs together in a defensive position. The feeling of another's warmth against his skin was disturbing, and he would have edged away if he could, if it was not for the necessity of protecting each other from any enemies that might have attacked from behind. Kanda had always hated human contact, even if it was just Rabi.

"Cover my back, 'kay, Yuu-chan?" Rabi said cheerfully. "I decided to switch places with Beansprout-chan since there's less enemies there and more people. Allen's good with people, he could easily placate them, dunno how he does it. Probably 'cause he's all heart, right? Poor kiddo, I never knew he was abandoned on the street like that!"

"Che, whatever. That wound of his is slowing him down a lot."

The Japanese exorcist whipped his ponytail over his shoulder, and sneered at Rabi's indignant tongue-clicking, at the notion that the poor defenseless little brat had been left to fend for itself when he was little, lost and without a home. He himself hated little kids, especially the ones with big blue eyes and smiled a lot. And got lost easily.

Kanda was not worried about the Beansprout. No, not worried at all, although he was at the very least slightly annoyed at this new turn of events, that cut their forces down drastically by one exorcist. Putting his faith in Allen's inexistent self-control when it came to emotions, however, was a very stupid thing, almost as stupid as the reckless boy himself. Parasitic types' emotions were important to invocating their innocence, and could even push them to even improve their weapons. But Allen was a little overboard, even. When riled, the emotional little Beansprout would do things that crossed the boundary of stupidity into insanity.

"Hmph." The Beansprout never ceased to irritate him, even in the thick of fighting! It took a few slashes to reduce the akuma to his left into pieces of oblivion, and Kanda quickly exterminated the one about to pounce on Rabi. Likewise, Rabi smashed two away from him, Nyoibo's head swinging around in perfect arcs to nail them accurately in the heads, which were mercilessly smashed off. The bookman-in-training had excellent control and strength, and was able to wield such a long, heavy weapon with ease.

The level three akuma was still in the skies, raining down all sorts of projectiles, whether it be dark matter, poisonous stars, or bullets. Kanda saw Rabi clench his jaw in hopeless anger as an entire family a few feet away from them fell to the stars, the pitiful, defenseless humans screaming and clawing at their skins before the virus shattered them into tiny blackened fragments that were blown away by the wind. It was something reminiscent of ashes dropping and scattering over the ocean, something familiar to him.

"Yuu- we've gotta watch out. We don't know what that level three thing can do." Rabi said neutrally. "But it's gotta be taken out before more die."

"Aaa. I'll take over here then." Kanda knew what Rabi was implying, and wished that it did not sound so morbid to his own ears, as if death was inevitable. "By the way, I'll kill you myself if you mess up."

The threat was empty, something he usually said out of a need for normality, and naturally to reassert the fact that he was someone to fear. His ice-cold persona had to be upheld. After all, Kanda was not an agreeable person, and was more than inclined to get rid of any hindrances to himself, seeing others as unnecessary burdens.

"_Onegaishimasu_. Leave it all to you, Beansprout-chan's still got a few rounds in him too so you better not lose to him, hah!"

The redhead's hammer elongated, and he hopped on, saluting Kanda cockily with one hand. "Well then, JUMP!" And he took to the skies, his bold flame-like hair in startling contrast to the sunny blue sky, which seemed so out of place and too pleasant for such a day of bloodshed. It should be red as Rabi's hair, a bold deadly crimson to fit the killing atmosphere. It was without warmth.

"_Ore ka_? Lose to that little cursed brat!"

He fumed. Kanda was not certain whether it was meant to be an insult or encouragement, and to his slow battle-mode brain it was quite a puzzlement. Yet there was no time to brood on it, since he saw the wind picking up, and it forming into a strange cyclone above the center of the platform much like Rinali's Enbu Kirikaze, only a thousand times intensified and bigger. So the level three controlled wind? Rabi's wood seal against the forces of nature would be able to do something, but Kanda was not sure how much effect that would have. Already, people were being swirled into its center, while he watched on impassively, trying to kill the akuma that prevented him from going anywhere. They clawed at the station platform, trying to keep from being curled into its vortex, and Kanda could barely keep his own footing.

He felt the raw, uncontrolled power within the cyclone, and the strange unfamiliar cold feeling of dark matter, so unlike the encompassing warmth of innocence. Rabi…be careful. He wanted to shout out to the skies, where the redhead did battle with the akuma that had summoned the hurricane. Kanda knew the horrors of dark matter upon human flesh- it painfully and slowly melted it to nothing, slowly dissolving the body's hydrogen bonds and dispersing the particles from its normal form. Only innocence could possibly cancel out its effect, and even then, it would do not much else but provide a counter.

Kanda parried the claws of one exceptionally large level two. Even for an akuma, its size was notable and he recognized it as one that looked as if it was ready to evolve. He had noticed it from the beginning, how it was particularly adept at gunning people down and got twice as many kills as his brethren. Perhaps it was already self-conscious, with motives and the ability to judge.

If akuma had brains, this one certainly used it. Unlike a certain Beansprout, but that was no contest and not the issue at point anyhow.

Kanda dodged the bullets flying for his head, and leapt up in the aftermath of flying rubble and smoke, trying to strike it in the split second it had lowered its guns to see if it had got him. His feet were quick and with even, firm steps as he launched himself off the shaking platform, in a perfect jump to land upon the akuma's massive lump of God-knows-what it called a shoulder. To increase power, footwork leading up to the actual strike was very important, perhaps even more so than the power of the strike itself. One simply did not stumble and hack, since that would lead to the loss of control to the many elements that were necessary for a good hit, all forces balanced and none overpowering any other.

It was a perfect _men_ strike, a blow to the center of the forehead. From years of hard work, it had perfect direction, strength, footwork, and himself giving the blow at the perfect opportunity. It required no thought, Kanda simply spotting the opening and cleaving at it. No timing, no previous thought, and not even that much power. It went easily through, the slender blade humming contently as it separated the akuma into two halves, his loud, shouted _kiai_ splitting the air- loud, spirited, and full of killing intent. And the exorcist wondered, if his instincts had improved.

To discipline the human spirit, through the way of the sword was what they swordsmen aimed at. From his long, hard journey from wielding a simple _shinai_, to a _bokuto_, to a katana- all his hard work was to achieve it.

Kendo was something which took time. Combinations of techniques would have to be practiced flawlessly as they could be intuitively utilized without any previous thought nor hesitation. One's strength was not in the mind, nor was it in power, but rather the instinct. It grew over time, this awareness that would be as strong a shield, and as powerful a blade as any could be. It was something akin to invincibility, judgment not required but only one's effortless move to counter a wave in the ocean of life, or a strike in the midst of a fight. _Mushin_, it was called, "_Mind of no-mind_." It was the mind being occupied by nothing, being emotionless and thoughtless, and thus being open to the acceptance of everything else. There was nothing but one's spontaneous self, nothing but what one instinctively felt. Experience cultured it, practice tempered it, and time brought it into play.

_Hmph_. And he had thought that the Beansprout was impulsive.

Perhaps this intuitive, unconscious reacting and acting was much more useful than he had thought. Kanda almost felt ashamed, grudgingly, that he had actually ridiculed before such notions of instinct. One such incident came to mind, merely a few hours ago. Again involving the Beansprout, who was like an annoying persistent thorn in the side, an irritating thought that simply would not leave his mind.

He was so one with his blade that mugen was merely an extension of his body, as much part of him as the parasitic arm was to Allen. Kanda personally thought that said exorcist would be much better when it came to strategy if he relied less on his emotions, but parasitic types needed emotion to fuel the strength of their weapons.

Emotion.

Something that Kanda did not completely lack, contrary to popular belief; he just had a lot less and displayed it a lot less than the rest of the commoners. Or so he would like to think.

Cleaving down an akuma, Kanda paused to wipe off the streak of akuma blood that had splattered his right cheek, not without a hint of disgust, not just at being splashed with akuma bodily fluid, but also at the naivety of the Beansprout, at being roused to such anger by his out-of-control feelings. He rolled his eyes, turned and sent mugen stabbing neatly into another akuma.

"_I want to protect everything I can!"_

Kanda could not help but sigh. Famous last words.

Someday they would get him into great trouble that nobody could dig him out of, not with the combined forces of nyoibo, mugen, Komui's robot-construction-thingie, that renowned slacker the Beansprout called Master, or even the miracle of God.

Shaking the black-haired exorcist out of his thoughts, quite literally, the sudden blast that rocked the platform and sent bits of the smashed floor flying into the air startled him. It cracked- a huge split began moving along the ground, easily blasting and breaking through the concrete in a large schism that split off into many small cracks, all running from the other side of the platform.

Kanda swore incessantly, in Japanese, as he darted out of harm's way, his leather boots skittering awkwardly to avoid the cracks. Japanese, though a very polite language by nature with many formalities and courtesy phrases, did have many expletives. More than enough for him to express his anger at the moment.

He could feel the rumbling power, so strong it seemed to originate from the fiery bowels of the earth, under the soles of his boots. To his great but grim satisfaction, he watched several akuma fall into the deeply formed cracks, or getting some appendage wedged in tightly.

But the ground breaking apart under where he had been standing on was not the only thing.

It happened.

The shrill, heartbreaking scream that cut like a knife through the air shattered the world even more than the platform had been decimated. Something broke, snapped, within someone's soul, as the cry sounded in the air loud and completely ravaged by grief- no, not just grief, he realized, but the bitter tone of absolute despair and frustration. It tore at the very air.

Full of emotion, driven by an almost mad rawness, bordering on insanity and a grief so deep and wild that it caused his ears- and heart- to ache. It cried injustice and injury. The pain in it was pronounced and very intense, and Kanda nearly dropped mugen in favor of covering his ears. It was someone's voice, a voice so hatefully familiar, a certain someone so hatefully familiar – but the utter despair was not.

"My God…" the exorcist muttered, a sense of dread and anticipation beginning to arise to strangle his throat. "Don't tell me…damnit, no, he can't be…"

He remembered the murderous intent that filled the air very well. It had been a few months ago, when he had first witnessed the extent and the destruction potential of it, fired by one Beansprout's selfless, determined heart, and an akuma's stupidity and cruelty to a doll. At the ruins of Matel, this power had laid waste to a level 3 which had brought about his own death by crossing an invisible boundary of justice, and turned an otherwise softhearted and merciful Allen into a monster of great damaging ability.

The shock of it had not left Kanda just yet, and most likely would never. Never before, in all his glorious eighteen years of existence, had he ever felt such a strong aura of rage. It was simply beyond human ability or comprehension, the explosiveness and depth of such an emotion, that seemed to scorch the very earth and air. In response, the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled, covered in cold sweat.

"Damnit, Allen, what are you up to now!" Startled and serious enough to unconsciously use the white-haired boy's given name, Kanda dashed towards the origin of the killing rage, mugen humming in his nerveless grasp, the hilt thrumming and jolting his hands with the vibrations from the tension in the air.

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8:57AM; Vienna, Austria

Shortly after she had left Kanda, Rabi had offered to exchange places with her, his tone casual and offbeat. As he had grimly explained, he was not exactly a people person, and evacuating people from the station was not something he could accomplish easily. Allen had the feeling that he wanted her to take it easy during the fight because of her itsy-bitsy tiny little injury, and chafed. Although she was slightly hurt at being underestimated and left out, Rabi had meant well, and his eyes were shining with a concern that he did not express in his words. Thus she had said nothing. Only smiled and went off to escort the many people to safety, occasionally recognizing with her eye and separating a humanoid akuma or two away from the crowd and dealing with it a safe distance away so as to prevent any civilians from being unnecessarily killed or injured. Only after Allen had been certain that most people did not come within a twelve-foot radius of the platform did she turn her attention to extermination. Twelve feet was not much of a buffer zone, since akuma were strong and could easily cover that ground being much bigger. However, in the current situation, any distance would provide a little safety. Not much, but anything would do.

Grimly, Allen considered the six akuma that had leapt above her, descending down from above in an attempt to trap her and prevent her from escaping to a safer place. The exorcist raised her arm and transformed it into a trident like thing, and rose to join them in the air. Hand to hand gave her an unfair disadvantage, since it wasn't really hand to hand but her one weapon against guns. Many of them. Even with a bunch of crappy guns, shoot a lot and you'll eventually hit something. And the earl had a lot of crappy guns, given that he had hordes of akuma waiting at his beck and call. Allen grimaced at the ironic truth, which hurt rather factually, since she had already been hit twice by the virus stars and was forced to neutralize the poison that was released within her body. It took up much energy that could have been spent on more necessary things. However, close combat seemed her best option at the moment, foolhardy as Allen knew it was. More than five hours without any substantial nutrition had left her slightly lightheaded, since her metabolism worked extraordinarily fast, and her parasitic weapon leeched off of her, much as its name implied. Being low on energy, injured, and tired from the long trip, the white-haired exorcist knew that the odds were stacked high against her. Gaining injuries seemed to be inevitable, but it was all for the people she absolutely must protect, with her life if needed.

Allen had never liked killing akuma, had never gotten used to the feeling of having death on her hands, blood dripping in between her fingers. The grossly thick liquid that soaked so viscous and sticky into her skin made her feel tainted, not just physically but also spiritually as well. It took hours to get the coppery cold smell out of her clothing and off her hand. It was red. Allen hated red. It was the color of death, the color of her arm, and the color of the rage that sometimes overtook her in times where she felt great emotion that would spur her on to greater heights and abilities in battle. Allen had only experienced it once before, in Matel, and that was enough to haunt her dreams along with Mana Walker's death, replayed over and over in her sleep and allowing her no rest nor absolution. It was fresh in her mind, as if it had just been yesterday, the sight of the mangled Lala in the clutches of the akuma that ripped her innocence and Gsor's only joy, straight out of her fragile little doll body. The doll had never been the same afterwards, and neither had Allen.

It terrorized her. It frankly did. She was weak, for all the explosive strength that her parasitic arm held in the silver cross that was embedded firmly in the red scaly skin.

Allen was no stranger to vulnerability, being a girl disguised in a boy's body, always self-conscious of the makeup and bandages that concealed her true identity, and the many differences that set her apart from other girls. But losing control of herself in battle, and having her world bathed in the blood that she shed in her fury was simply terrorizing. The exorcist shuddered, cold traversing up her spine and settling there. She was afraid of herself, how potentially destructive she could be when something unnamable was roused within her due to some empathetic sensation that connected to the situation at hand. How feelings threatened to overwhelm her, her sense of right and wrong distorting all else, from her personal safety to reason to the objective of the mission.

All else, gone in a flash of bright crimson. Like her enemies, fading away as quickly as her loved ones had been taken from her long ago.

Like now.

"Elena!"

Involuntarily, Allen inclined her head in the direction of the terrified but familiar voice, answering to an unfamiliar name, although deep in her heart she fought to believe that it was not her. It was almost as if some part of her had recognized herself as someone who she was not- whom she desperately wanted to believe she was not, but was.

The little boy Edmund was backed up against the station's wall, eyes wide and terrified, his small face screwed up in a horrified expression. Allen followed his line of gaze in the direction where the voice had originated, and spotted something that made her heart nearly stop with dread and her stomach churn violently in fury. An akuma had Mrs. Kingsley by the throat, dangling her like a grotesque limp doll in its clawed clutches, her feet swaying. The claws curled around her bright red-clad form, which looked so delicate and destroyable, the red silk clashing with a hard difference against the black claws with a fascinatingly and horrifyingly lovely effect. Like the crimson dawn overtaking the jet night, like Horror struck her still in her place, and her feet seemed leaden and dead, her tongue bitter and dry in her mouth, rendering her into a state that was disgustingly familiar to her. The exorcist felt as helpless as she had been that day so many years ago, when she could do nothing but scream and cry as her arm unconsciously reached out to destroy the akuma that was her father. As helpless as when she was unable to save Rinali from the crushing falling weight of the ceiling in the church.

She screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed her throat raw and cursed the earth and heavens with her voice.

Mark must have felt the same when the heavy chandelier had crushed his beloved Crea, as it did his heart on that day so long ago, the remains festering within his empty chest. He could have only watched.

Desperate, torn, and ragged, the sound ripped painfully out of her mouth, damaging vocal cords and straining her throat. Emotion could not express what she felt. It seemed as if her world was caving in on her, with the death of this one person, whom she could not protect. The woman was- could have been- an important person to her. Mother. The possibilities all ended here with her death, and Allen could not help but be reminded of past occurrences that she did not want to be reminded of.

She was still, at the very end, useless.

Hated. Abandoned. Perhaps she had deserved that?

It hurt her. But Allen could do nothing but stare, filled with a vague and thoughtless wonder, as her throat burned raw and aching from screaming. Already her senses were numbed, deadened, her mind empty, eyes staring blankly and her invocated arm hanging flaccid at her side.

"Elena…help…"

Her sudden change in mood startled and almost frightened her, going from desperation to anger. It almost made her retch, the way the woman called out for help, begging for someone to save her life when she herself had as good as killed an innocent little girl fifteen years ago. What made her even more disdainful was that name. It wasn't one she had ever been called before. But yet, in twist so ironic that she thought the angels from above must be laughing, it had seemed so correct that she only answer to it.

She couldn't actually really remember it, the moment of abandonment, but the knowledge that it had existed in her past made the exorcist angered. It disgusted herself, how she had actually hesitated to raise her invocated claw to shoot force bolts to kill something that should have been dead some time ago. The akuma were her sworn enemy, not her past, no matter how traumatic it might have been.

That outstretched hand, barely alive, was reaching out to her. The fingers stretched uselessly, reaching out with the very last forces of strength. Covered in deep red blood, it beseeched her for help. Allen could do nothing, staring being the only thing she was capable of doing at the moment.

It was unprofessional to let one's personal affairs interfere in such a drastic way with a mission, but Allen had never been too keen on rules and regulations in the first place. The white-haired exorcist stared transfixed, as if in a daze.

Redness overcame her vision, and she gasped, snapped out of her stupor, as blood splattered the air and landing in sickening drops that pooled on the platform. It was that woman's blood, most likely the same blood that ran through her very own veins, much to her great dislike. But it was still, after all, her very own blood as well.

"God…please no…not again…" Allen pleaded to an invisible entity whose presence she never had felt, never truly believed in although she herself held a position in the church. "No…"

Even though her throat had been slashed open, the worst possible scenario being a severed jugular artery, the hapless woman spoke through the massive flood of blood that gushed out and trickled into little rivulets soaking her dress a darker crimson.

"I'm sorry…" She gasped out through gurgles that brought more blood flowing, "I'm…so…sorry. Elena…I…love…you. Don't forget…"

Allen, I love you.

I love you.

The words sounded false to her ringing and aching ears, but struck true to her beating heart. It had not been the first time Allen had heard those words, rare as they were, and she almost flinched and recoiled backwards. Such a repulsive, disfigured creature like her deserved nothing, after all she had killed her father and was only a coward to begin with.

To her very horror, the exorcist saw the woman's head fall boneless and fluidly limp, as if her neck could no longer support it, and as if all life had left her. Gone, in the blink of an eye, in the moment of a whisper, and the split second of hesitation. Allen's arm reached out too late, the white invocated claw stretching out with all nails ready to slice vengefully through the embodiment of sin that stood before her, an akuma.

As always, she was too late, too slow, too useless, and too helpless. Stupidity had been something that Allen had always thought she would grow out of, but even Master Cross had not broken her of it, fifteen years of existence had not made her any more capable, nor had the weakness of her own limits faded away. Kanda had always been right; Allen was nothing but a stupid, reckless little Beansprout, fooled by her own ideals and blind to all else. The cross that she had wore for more than half a year or so had meant the world, and yet nothing to her. It was not pride nor was it the giddy feeling of self-importance that made her don the black and white uniform; it was merely necessary, the only thing she could do. Nothing, after all, had changed much.

The exorcist fell on her knees, as the stranger, no, not the stranger, but a woman, her mother, who was meaninglessly dear to her, was dropped onto the broken floor, broken as her body was. The akuma turned its large back to her, its guns immediately turning to seek out more helpless prey, to sate its unfulfilled hunger for blood and death. It found its target almost immediately, the many barrels zeroing in with a flawless inhuman accuracy on a small blond boy dressed in a dirtied and torn velvet suit, his large blue eyes overflowing with tears and his loud shrieking child's voice screaming for a mother who lay dying on the floor, suffocating in a pool of her own blood.

_Lord, as I walk in the valley of death_…Allen, kneeling in blood and her senses deadened, felt that those words from the psalm were meaningless to her, uncomforting when she needed them the most. He had never answered. 'No' was a perfectly legitimate answer, but she was sick of being told that. She had never felt as if He was at her side, since His Will had been done and it had never been a very pleasant thing for her. But a prayer, nonetheless, was still worth something even if it never was answered. God, give me strength, to conquer my own demons and those that assail me from outside. Slowly, slowly, the white-haired exorcist felt the blood-red rage creep over her vision, the thoughts of her damaged arm and the heavy bill she would have to foot if she overly damaged the station fading to the back of her mind. She did not frantically push back the murderous emotion that welled from the very core of her being and burned harsh and hotter than the flames of hell. Instead, Allen let it encompass her, she with all her stupidity, weakness, ideals, and helplessness. The fierce sense of protectiveness reigned, the want to make sure nothing in the precious world of hers got any more damage. It overcame all else, all sense of reality, all reason, all personal regard for safety.

Pain was no longer an issue, her bruised tummy and the slice in her damaged parasitic arm forgotten.

Her hunger too was out of mind, as the pounding of her heart running high on adrenaline overwhelmed the churning of her growling stomach.

There was nothing but her grief and hot anger, driving herself on.

Already, Allen could feel the cells in her body working hard, the uncomfortable, queer warmth of her innocence activating in her arm, her flesh shifting around there to transform. The heat of her emotion had caused her body to change, and she impatiently anticipated the havoc she would able to wreak. The cross in her hand hurt her, as the innocence worked its power, shifting, shaping into a new strength she could use to bring justice. It burned, like hellfire, traveling up her wrist and her arm to end with little relief at her shoulder.

"Do not touch the boy. Or you die."

Voice cold and with none of the emotion that shook her slender frame and caused her arm to evolve, the exorcist gently scooped up the limp form of the red-clad woman and gently laid it down a safe distance off, where her body would not be disturbed in the fighting. She felt no life cupped in her palm. No motion. But she knew that the woman was still alive, just barely, but would not remain so for very long. The akuma which she had so addressed turned around, almost cluelessly, its guns swiveling from targeting Edmund to focusing on her. All barrels pointed at her being.

"Shoot me. Go ahead and try." Allen told it, smiling a mirthless, twisted grin. "Is it so fun to kill a helpless woman like her? In front of her son, no less? You akuma truly are pathetic, aren't you. So corrupted by the earl that you are nothing but a mindless killing machine, right? I feel sorry for you. Really, I do."

She cared for them, was entirely sympathetic for the akuma whom everyone hated since that was the very least she was able to do, and they were all so similar at the very end. Her arm had not formed completely into a new evolved state, and she knew there would be rebound consequences, but Allen effortlessly cleaved the akuma in half. And calmly eyed it as it collapsed in two pieces to the concrete platform.

"I'm right, huh. In that aspect then, we're the same. We're both corrupt here." She placed a hand over her heart to indicate, as she had blithely told the smoking corpse.

Behind her, she could hear Kanda running up, his angry voice loud and conveying a fury that she knew she would have to deal with later, but the words did not string up in her fogged mind to any comprehensive-sounding meaning. All she could feel was the angry flame of justice that consumed her entire being.


	21. Level Up: Antithesis

Disclaimer: D. Gray man does not belong to me.

Author's note: Gah...such a long time since I updated. Unfortunately, I've been really busy. CLubs and homework and tests are really getting to me. Since it's Breast Cancer awareness month, there's plenty of volunteer activities- I'd like to encourage everyone to participate in one, to help raise money and awareness to this disease that strikes down so many women every year. 'Nuff said on that, and back to the story. Well, this chapter was hastily written, as I really do need to get back to studying ap chem. Sorry if there are any typos. Somehow, I've been feeling recently that my writing's not so...up to par, so as to say. I don't quite think that's it's very good, especially with how I present the plot. Maybe it's just me, but feel free to review, I'd like to know what everyone thinks. Suggestions are especially welcome!

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21. Level up: Transformation into the Antithesis

9:01 AM; Vienna, Austria

_Kanda's pov_:

The white scaly hand –that was, if it could even be called that at this point-in all its snow-white deadliness, sliced the unfortunate akuma in two with no effort at all, although at the moment it was a shapeless blob of a form, with no distinct appearance of any weapon whatsoever. The pure energy was shapeless, irregular, and barely keeping in one singular body. The strong killing intent did not leave the atmosphere, and Kanda instinctively drew away, not realizing the reflex until he was several safe meters away. However, of all times to evolve, he was peeved that it had to be now, as if the accursed Beansprout actually had a choice. Which he probably did, he thought spitefully despite his lack of knowledge on parasitic type weapons.

Before his very eyes, Kanda had watched the white-haired exorcist's strangely slender body shudder after he had set that red-dressed woman down on the paved platform and his parasitic arm begin taking on an entirely different form. He watched it- the arm, or whatever it was at the moment, took on another color, turning from a snowy white to a shade more along the lines to a pale gold-ish crimson, a tawny burnished color that reminded him of the hot vengeful sun during the summer in Japan. It resembled molten, pure gold, overflowing and heated to a boiling point- however, Allen's arm lacked any of the warmth that would otherwise be associated with such a color. It was cool, it was dangerous, and it promised retribution to whomever that wronged him. Namely the akuma and/or a Noah if he/she was in the vicinity, and Kanda was suddenly struck by the thought that the Beansprout might just prove to be a dangerous enemy with all his raw potential for power, if it ever came to that. However, trust his naïve idiocy to just screw everything up, even if he was powerful.

"Shit, what the hell does the dolt think he's doing now? He's going to kill the akuma, himself, and everyone else in this place if he undergoes evolution now. Che. He hasn't even gotten the full form of his weapon yet." Kanda muttered, returning mugen to a ready position. Unconsciously, he had shifted into _chudan_ position, the tip of his katana pointed up towards what he would deem the akuma's head and focusing at its center, ready to cleave it in two if the Beansprout was attacked while evolving. He did not understand, nor did he want to understand, just why he was actually moving to guard said boy from an attack. The boy was…simply too incompetent, no matter what Rabi said, no matter how the Bookman praised his destiny, no matter how he was so beloved for his too-large heart.

That was…Not particularly worthy of his attention, nor deserving of his aid, but enough to fend for himself, being an exorcist. In Matel, Kanda reflected grimly, his own body had seemed to move of its own accord, out of instinct to protect a teammate and nothing more. Bringing up his sword to deflect the bullets heading for Allen Walker had been unintended, the last time they were in such a situation. But yet, he found it happening again and again, and it by now was an innate response to the Beansprout's infuriating presence- to prevent the damn _brat_ from getting into any more trouble than he normally would have caused. He was unfamiliar with these actions which were provoked in him, just by the swish of white hair and the innocent gleam of blue eyes which resembled pure sea water on ice. He was disgusted with himself, almost.

Movement behind him drew his attention, more by the sound of it than the sight since his eyes were fixed on the akuma before him. Without sparing an instant, Kanda extended one foot and spun back on the heel, mugen accurately pinpointing the head of the one behind him in a swift precise motion remarkable in its speed and grace. He had judged accurately the direction, but it was no akuma that he set his sights on.

Soft snot-clogged sniffles made him lower his sword for an instant, and the exorcist struggled with the sudden unexplainable sensation of his heart twisting as he watched a small blond boy bawl and wipe his running nose with a bloodstained velvet sleeve. He had forgotten what the blonde's name had been, other than the fact it had been some stupid common English name, but all the same he forcibly dragged him away, out of Allen's range of attack, and that of any akuma as well. It was not as if he needed to be worried of the latter attacking at all, however, as the British exorcist's murderous rage seemed to heat the air and create an almost visible aura around the vicinity. Kanda had never before felt such a presence of innocence before, either, so much that it was an almost tangible presence, what with the strength of the energy emitting from the evolving exorcist at the center of all the disruption.

To his great amazement, the beansprout's arm stretched out, and the white blob began molding itself into the distinct contours of a great cone-shaped object, similar to his previous form, which he had evolved into at Matel, which utilized projectile-like bolts. Except this time, it seemed to be an even bigger gun, one that did not open up like a trumpet like the other one but instead tapered off to a small little opening for the projectile to shoot out of.

"Damn it, be quiet!" Kanda hissed irritably, his voice drawn and tense with anxiety and anger. He eyed the blonde- Edward? Edwin? Edmund?- with distaste and a hint of impatience, and trying his very best to keep the growl that originated from within his throat silenced. It was not long before he reluctantly gave in to his guilty conscience from snapping at the child, and allowed the pitiful little thing to attach itself to the hem of his ripped cloak. Kanda tensed as Allen lifted his haggard, bowed head from the ground, and yet another explosive jag of energy shook the ground, making him grab Edmund and head for cover a short distance away. However, he kept his eyes trained on the newly evolving weapon, wary even if Allen was his ally.

Kanda, in all his years of working with the Order, possessed little experience with working with parasitic types until the entrance of the cursed boy and later Aleister Crowley into the Order. Parasitic types were odd, rare, and their weapons' evolution was something that he had little knowledge of. There was little previous indication of the evolving; not so much as a warning from the parasitic apostle. That was something that irked Kanda to no end, as the evolution would take some time and if it occurred during a fight there would be a severe opening in their forces. It could be seconds, minutes, the momentary letting down one's guard. Defense was like a military compound; no crack in the barricade could ever be considered small, no fault ever impossible for the enemy to take advantage of.

An eerie light gathered at the golden arm's tip; if anything, Kanda would have said that it was the darkest light he had ever seen, black in color but yet blindingly glowing with a sort of otherworldly luminance that was so brilliant he nearly had to shut his eyes. Dark light- quite an oxymoron, but what he saw was undoubtedly real. If he had looked directly at it, he knew that he would have no doubt been at least temporarily blinded. The parasitic arm was powering up with the flashy bright light typical of leveling-up, and he realized how much of a strain it was possibly putting on the smaller exorcist's body, which was already injured and tired.

"Oi, Beansprout!" He yelled, shielding his eyes. Being the asinine moron that he was, Allen did not back down. "Don't push it! It's not fully formed so you'll-"

He needn't have wasted his breath screaming, since of course the headstrong cursed brat would refuse to listen to him- that was, if he had heard him at all…

As Kanda had shouted his warning, a strange black jet of light erupted from invocated arm. Allen shuddered with the force as it left his body, nearly thrown off balance where he stood, the recoil flinging him backwards and forwards with an unceremonious jerk. White hair draped across his face, hiding the angry snarl that twisted his expression into something truly frightening.

"Baka!" Kanda gasped. It was not the strength of the shot that surprised him, but the insane, absolutely dumb direction in which it was shot, which was not at the akuma surrounding him at a wary distance, nor was it at the level three akuma in the air that Rabi was driving off with his hammer…. Much to his anger, it instead landed right in between the white-haired exorcist's spread booted feet. What good was a gun if you were only going to aim it at the floor?! It was like shooting oneself in the foot, as insane as that may sound, and not even that. Kanda had very little love for guns and other such forms of artillery, especially considering how the weapon of choice in his native country was usually a katana. There was little honor in using a gun, of all things, which made _killing_ less of the art he considered it as, since all one needed to do was crudely make the bullet hit the person. At first he considered that the Beansprout had been his annoying self and had somehow messed up, but it soon became apparent that it had been deliberately aimed.

It had been no bullet; his eyes, well trained as they were to sensing motion, were disoriented and thrown off focus by the sheer speed and force of the attack. It was more of a beam, although that was a grossly understated and farfetched comparison, the newly evolved parasitic weapon. The light- if he could even call it that- sliced through the air downwards, then hit the ground from where it shone out of the arm, and trailed like a snake along the concrete, infiltrating the cracks in the pavement and widening them with its destructive energy. The exorcist blinked, not believing his eyes. He was just as bad a student in physics as he was in math, but he was uneasily sure that light was not supposed to travel like that, being unable to bend so intensely without reflective surfaces for the transverse waves to bounce off of. Moreover, beams like that would usually just cause the light, which had particle properties as well as wave, to scatter. But it didn't, continuing in straight defined paths, almost like laser beams but not quite. Nothing was ever what he believed it to be, and he knew he was not of the academically achieving sort, but the laws of physics were being defied and he was uneasy with it.

That was, if it was light at all.

Almost immediately, Kanda felt the presence of something eerily familiar, yet it was something that he was not personally acquainted with. It was the ying to the exorcists' yang, the dark to their light, the other counterpart to the innocence that apostles held. It turned the air cold, his skin clammy, and his soul numb with shock, until he angrily gave himself a small cut on the hand with mugen, to wake his consciousness from its sluggishness.

It was not one nor the other.

Neither night nor day, neither black or white. It was indefinable, unreal, and a power completely incomprehensible to him. It was not innocence, since he would have recognized the warmth and embracing explosiveness of it long before, and he would not be so unsure or wary. However, it was not the dark matter either, although its presence with all its negative pressure and gravity was almost certainly there, chilling his blood to the marrow and sending anticipation and apprehension streaking up his backbone. It after all was no invisible thread, being blindingly bright. Reason told him otherwise, as there could be no combination of the two forces, the two merely canceling each other with their opposing properties.

"It can't be…he's a fucking exorcist…but still…" Kanda barely noticed the fact that Edmund was sobbing loudly for his now deceased mommy and clinging like a dead weight to his other arm, as he watched the strange black light with narrowed and wary eyes, not knowing whether or not to fear or admire Allen's new ability. Kanda Yuu usually did neither, but the situation was something he had never before seen in battle. The thought endlessly perplexed him and for an instance his iron-like willpower quivered, whether out of anticipation at the slaughter that he knew was about to befall this sunny day or the amount of damage the Beansprout would do to the train station. He could not even decide whether it was for good or for bad. Moreover, he was entirely sure that their usually discreet presences as exorcists would be difficult to conceal after this occurrence, as an entire train station being obliterated would hardly be easily covered-up. The blasted media, after all, would easily get wind of the catastrophe and thus would be milling about the scene soon, regardless of the potential danger. He'd had never seen the purpose of risking one's life for a career-altering story, since it was absolutely unpragmatic and not worth the effort. Of course, he rarely thought that anything was worth the effort- not to say that he was lazy, though. He was most definitely not. After all, getting up at the break of daylight to perform katas in arduous repetition until noon could hardly be the act of someone who was lazy.

The strange light snaked and crawled its way throughout the platform, weaving twisted, weird patterns on the ground, tracing its way the akuma, and slipping around them on the floor. Winding and meandering a path, the lines were like string; evidently, the akuma seemed just as confused as Kanda himself was at this new turn of events, watching stupidly on as Allen worked his new feat.

All of a sudden it happened, in a single move so quick and bright that he barely caught it with his eyes.

The bright strings of light, that had by now assimilated into many trails and entwined themselves around where the akuma stood, suddenly sprang to life, dancing up from the ground and tangling around the akuma themselves. The light trails were knotting, twisting, and encircling the many akuma so that they were trapped and tied up in the strange bright net that Allen had patiently knitted out of the threads of dark light that had traveled along the floor. They bent here and there, wound and rounded.

The strands of light were inescapable, wrapping themselves tightly around the akuma and seeming to tighten even as they struggled. Kanda withdrew slightly, jerking Edmund behind him. A net, woven by a spider, entangling, strangling, and throttling the akuma within the grasp of the delicate but yet powerful strands of light.

"Beansprout- what are you doing?!" He yelled above the din at the exorcist who stood lonely and straight-backed in the middle of his carefully constructed the trap.

"Hurry-Kanda-I can't hold them with these strings-things for much longer. Hurry!" The white-haired exorcist grimaced, his breath coming in loud, heavy pants. His gun-like arm shook and strained. "I-I don't think it's going to kill them, being able to trap them for a while…"

"There's no damned use to the weapon, then." Kanda grumbled, but raised mugen into his attack stance.

"Keep clear of those strings, they'll hurt _you_." Allen said flatly from where he stood, with an almost guttural tone as if it hurt to talk.

"And you only tell me now?!" Kanda roared back, sidestepping and missing one of them just by an inch. "What are those things, light?" He turned, swiveled on the balls of his feet, and easily cut off the head of an unresisting akuma that was tied up. Had it been any other situation, the younger exorcist would find himself neatly drawn and quartered, courtesy of mugen's services.

"Nah, not _light_. Close though." A sober voice, unusually grave, stated plainly from behind him. "And watch it, Yuu-chan, you heard Beansprout-chan about being careful. That stuff will break apart all the stuff in your body."

"I WOULD BE IF YOU DIDN'T CREEP UP BEHIND ME!!!"

He barely caught himself in time before he tripped over a stray thread of the dark light. Furious, and immediately regretting that he had admitted to being surprised by his friend's sudden appearance, Kanda whirled on the redhead behind him with righteous indignation. Rabi was perched on his giant mallet and surveying the scene with a narrowed green eye, biting and gnawing at his lower lip as he thought.

The black-haired exorcist sighed, and restrained himself from slapping his forehead in the universal sign of aggravation. Stupidity and its many manifestations in life were going to kill him someday, and he wondered just when Crowley was going to show up to relieve him of the duty of babysitting two complete idiots. Allen was insanity incarnate, Rabi simply spontaneous, and Kanda knew that between the two of them, he would be lucky to even just survive the mission.

"I've never heard of this before in history, though." Rabi continued on nonplussed with a maddening, obnoxious sense of calmness that simply made the irritable Kanda want to sock him, juvenile as he knew the action was. "But y'know, Beansprout-chan isn't exactly the most normal person either, so this new weapon sorta does fit him, along with that nasty eye…"

It had never occurred to him that there might have been something wrong with said exorcist, from the way he was always so…_smiling_. "Che. It's just his weapon. He did this at Matel too, when that blasted doll got itself wrecked by an akuma."

"Yeah. But Yuu-chan. You've never heard of an exorcist using dark matter before, right?" Rabi said seriously. "Like an akuma. That's why Beansprout-chan can't kill the akuma with the strings, since he uses negative energy like them and only innocence can cancel that out. But it's not entirely dark matter- feel the innocence? It's strong, too."

"Dark matter?"

"Hey-Do me a favor…quickly exorcise them, please? Can't move while I hold them like this, I'll be breaking the thread." Allen's voice carried over from where he was, the tone slightly petulant. Cold, almost detached, as if he was barely able to articulate anything. There was a quiet note of deep grief in it, and the deep anger that Kanda had felt shaking in the air had dissipated, to something more controlled with the release of the new weapon and attack.

"Oh man, crap. Rebound. The new weapon's sucking up his strength…" Rabi stated, as the fifteen-year old coughed up some blood, crumpling to the floor but not letting go of the thin beam of light connecting his arm to the strings of dark matter still ensnaring the akuma.

"And you go and use up all your strength after all your big words to protect everyone, eh." Kanda growled at his slumped figure, brushing off the other's indignant protest that it was merely a _teeny little break_. He would beg to differ, most definitely. "That's what you said last time and I had to save your neck because of the rebound. You're as annoying as always." The lattermost part was something he repeated over and over, but the beansprout was always too daft to seriously consider his words. He was beginning to think that it would be more practical to save his breath, as tempting as it was to quite literally chew the idiot out.

"_Ike, mugen! _First Illusion!"

In perfect coordination, mugen and nyoibo worked together under the same blood-red sky. Now that the akuma were restrained and were unable to target innocent civilians or retaliate to their attacks, killing them was much more easily accomplished. The black insects of the underworld winged its way through the trapped akuma, accompanied with a fire seal to finish off the mass destruction.

Although they tried to limit the amount of damage affecting the vicinity, their attacks were meant to be devastating and thus it was impossible to keep from reducing the station to a pile of dusty rubble, crushed metal, brick powder, and broken trains. Like some child's toys that had undergone demolition phase with an axe, everything was broken, in a grotesque resemblance to some sort of battlefield. The platform was completely destructed, and Kanda had a feeling that all of them were going to hear from Komui sometime during the week or so, since destroying something of that magnitude, not to mention a public place as well, was something very much expensive even for an organization like the clergy. Most likely the costs would mostly be paid out of their own pockets, and his were not very deep. Rabi picked up a cracked piece of luggage where it was flung by a fleeing passenger and swore as it fell apart in his hands, the contents falling out in a pile of paraphernalia at his feet. Shoveling the many clothes back into the suitcase, he tossed it aside since it did not seem as if its owner was going to reclaim it anytime soon.

"Rabi. How about the level three."

"_Saa_. It winged off when Beansprout-chan let loose all hell." Rabi said. "Now, that's not good but we'll fight it another day, when the odds aren't so stacked."

"Odds, huh. Where's the cursed brat?"

Kanda looked in the direction where Rabi somberly pointed, and saw the white-haired boy sitting on a cracked part of the floor that had risen up, a little off to the side by himself, his head hanging low. He had released the strands once he was sure the akuma were taken care of, and was slumped in a boneless heap with his arm back to its normal, human-sized shape. His breath still came in shallow little pants, and blood still trickled from the side of his mouth, but otherwise he looked none the worse for the wear. His eyes were suspiciously moist though, like when Kanda had caught him crying at Lala's death after the Matel incident. However, the proud short-statured exorcist hastily brushed them away, as if ashamed.

"Kingsley-chan!" Rabi immediately stooped and bore up a limp, ragged red form, hanging broken and unresponsive in his arms. He patted her cheek, trying to rouse her. Frantically Kanda heard him call her name, trying to wake her.

At the mention of the woman's name, Allen flinched slightly, and drew even further within his little shell. The Japanese exorcist's eyes followed his motions sharply, unsure and suspicious. The Beansprout looked just so pathetic sitting there slumped down, it burned Kanda's proud eyes. Despite himself, Kanda wanted to approach him and give him a hand up. But he didn't. He was known among the Black Order as the exorcist with the foulest temper, and anyone who wanted to live to see the light of day should avoid crossing him at all costs. Kanda Yuu was not a soft person, given to unnecessary emotions. Random acts of kindness were nearly inexistent in his thinking process, and 'kind' was not in his vocabulary. Whispers of fear, trembling, the way the masses of finders parted for him as if he was Noah separating the waters of the sea, and most of all the terrified submission to perform his every whim- Kanda was very much aware of how highly feared (even if it was just the result of his bad temper) he was in the order. The notoriety was something he was not insensible to, and he thought it was just as well. It certainly _had_ done wonders for his ego, the delightfully intoxicating power of having every other pitiable little mortal under the heel of his boot.

And then the cursed little white-haired wretch came along, and blew the meaning of stupidity out of proportion.

Allen Walker had showed no intent of backing down before the typhoon that was Kanda, his clear blue eyes shining with an almost insolent cheer, revealing a personality so disgustingly upbeat and as inflated as his words of heroism were.

Hunched over like that, the other exorcist seemed to be in pain, from more than just his injuries. Although he would never for the world tell anyone, Kanda wanted to see him smile his dumb idiotic grin, since that would mean that everything was alright. Meaningless, stupid, and hollow as it was, it was in its own foolish way comforting, giving a false sense of reassurance. A stupid sense of reassurance, but that was all they exorcists needed. In their brief existences in which only death could be certain, there was nothing ever constant. Exorcists died, abilities evolved, and akuma slain- all like the turning of seasons in the year, they came and went, never staying long and going quickly. So if there was anything that was always unvarying in its presence, perpetually there, it was precious. It reminded them of the stability they could never have.

Even if it had just 'been there,' simply done nothing but exist, being so commonplace and unnoticeable that it was taken for granted, Kanda could not help but grudgingly and reluctantly appreciate it. For all its little value was.

But still, the question remained: How could an exorcist who wielded innocence suddenly become capable of using dark matter as well? It was the exact opposite of all they worked for, and all the Black Priests' organization stood for.


	22. The Cross she bears

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man, Hoshino-sensei does.

Author's note: Happy Halloween!!!!Finally, another update. As a Halloween treat. To those whom reviewed: thank you so very much! I enjoyed what you had to say. Thanks for the suggestions, especially.

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22. The Cross she bears

12:22 PM; Vienna, Austria (Stephensdom)

_"I've been smiling all this time, but inside I'm just dying…Die. Just die. I live for nothing but the akuma. Why is that? I live for the sake of killing them. That makes me sound absolutely twisted, but it is the truth. I promised myself to take on this responsibility the moment I created one myself. What a fool I was…and what a fool I still am now, still stupid and weak. Thank God I haven't told anyone what a damned sinner I am, although I've never really thought over my actions and I didn't know the consequences of making an akuma. But it's still my fault. No matter what there is no excuse. I'm always so stupid.….Always too late, always not powerful enough to protect the ones I love. That woman- she could have, would have, been someone really dear to me. But I guess that's sort of impossible now. I caused her death now, just as she caused mine fifteen years ago…and all because both of us were stupid people who didn't know any better…She's dying, and I can't do anything. I never was able to. If she stays alive, I would call her mother. If I can turn back time, I would. My God, how I would!"_

_Walker, Allen; Excerpt from her diary_

The wafting smell of hot molten wax from the flickering chapel candles was dense in the air, mixed in with the stench of sticky blood and decaying wounds; the mild lights gently danced with the slightest motionThe acoustics in the large chapel were excellent; but at the moment, there was no chorus performing except for that of death. Allen lifted her head slightly as Kanda approached her, his boots thumping from the other side of the long chapel over the wailing din of people gathered in the Stephensdom to look for their deceased and dying. It was no strange sound to the old, venerable building, which had withstood the trials of time, through the damage of more than 1,000 cannonballs during a Turkish siege, and through World War 2's allied bombs and German invaders and Russian plunderers. This was just one more event to archive in its long history, a seemingly insignificant event- however, as she looked around, she wondered how the loss of so much life could ever be considered a miniscule occurrence.

She quickly snapped shut the small green-leather bound book, her diary which she always carried around, back into the rather deep pocket of her trousers. Her fingers felt strange against the leather, the cover too smooth on the pads of her fingers. Filched from the Science Department labs of the Order, it was standard stationary and better used for recording data rather for writing daily thoughts and feelings. Shoving the pen unceremoniously back into the pocket as well, she turned her attention back to the one lying before her on the bloodstained pallet before her, from whom the spark of life would soon depart from.

Crimson, dark blood soaked the fancy red dress even redder, a more brilliant shade that pooled under the body and soaked the floor beneath. The woman's ample chest rose up and fell back down in the same terribly slow and labored process, as if its burden was too heavy, crushing the already dying heart underneath its weight. As Allen watched through eyelashes misted over, she noticed the grotesque beauty of the way the filigree locket sitting pretty right above the décolletage was the only thing not touched in blood.

"Hmph. Beansprout."

"What." It was more of a statement than a question, since she did not really want to acknowledge the black-haired exorcist's presence nor did she want to know just why he was speaking to her.

"If it's so hard for you, just put her out of her misery. She's dead, anyway."

People never did change, Allen mused detachedly, not really listening. Kanda did not, and his attitude would never. If she recalled correctly, that was almost exactly what Kanda had said months ago when they were in Matel, and she had to uphold a promise to the doll whose innocence they sought to retrieve.

Already, the white-haired exorcist could feel the hot liquidness at the back of her eyes, scorching and hard to keep at bay. Only the knowledge that she would ruin her makeup and her promise to Hebraska never to cry again allowed her to keep her composure. Moreover, she was not about to show any weakness in front of Kanda, who would no doubt scoff and comment on how big a crybaby she was. Which was true, but things were always different when other people acknowledged it, since it would then mean that it was an accepted fact.

"No." Her voice was much more hoarse and shaking than she had expected, and she felt her vocal cords, much abused from screaming, threatening to give way to tell-tale breaking. "Not a moment before she needs to go."

Allen heard him snort derisively behind her, and shuffle his heavy boots on the small space of floor that was not occupied by the dead or mortally injured. She couldn't tell whether it was better to hear the screams of the injured, whom were moved to another room, or the sounds of people sobbing as their loved ones died. Definitely the former, she decided fervently, since the raw anguish and helplessness in the cries of the latter were something that struck true to her heart and thus much harder to bear. Since she understood what it was like, to grieve, to be left behind in a world where nothing was certain but death.

"You know, we're very much alike. The akuma and I, I mean." She whispered, almost as if she was speaking to herself, despite the other exorcist's presence.

Kanda seemed to be confused and a little angry, on her calm, conversational tone, since he huffed and scuffed his toes a little too close to where she was sitting. But the cursed exorcist knew that she had roused her interest, from the way she heard his breath hitch slightly and his shuffling speed up slightly, going from foot to foot. The great Kanda Yuu, curious? He was a generally unsociable person, hating society and coming in contact with people, preferring no one's company except for his own. Or perhaps Rabi's, but only when he was in a particularly good mood though.

The few times Allen had tried to converse with him, he had cut her off abruptly, muttering some discriminate phrase about cursed brats. Their first mission when they had taken a train together to Matel was the last time she really talked to him about anything, since he had been too lazy to explain what innocence was when she had politely asked. But she said nothing, and did not offer any more.

The silence between them was by no means comfortable, and she would have almost preferred the usual banter of insults he flung at her or even their loud, bickering over some innocence-retrieving mission. All of their verbal exchanges would end with him saying that she was annoying and she refusing to speak to him for the rest of the day. Needless to say, the interactions were few and not very good-natured, something that she could do without. However, this seemed different. The other had seemed awkward in talking, if almost tentatively waiting what she was about to say, genuinely interested and without the usual disdainful or bored air he turned upon just about every frosted-over conversation he had.

"And why is that?" The black-haired exorcist's voice carried a faint hint of impatience, startling her from her thoughts. She flushed and looked down at her crossed legs, very interested in the stone floor all of a sudden. She did not know what unworldly force had inspired her to tell him- the last person she could ever have a decent conversation with- anything at all, since he was a horrible candidate for confidante. Cold, devoid of emotion, and with an ever angry temperament, Kanda had no emotional depth or sympathy for her to deal with him at the moment.

"…Nothing." Allen forced herself to say, although she wanted desperately to simply talk to someone. "Nothing at all."

"Che. If it's nothing at all, than don't bother bringing it at all. Insignificant little things never need to be said. Such a stupid waste of time."

"It's the little things that make up what counts, isn't it." She could practically feel the conversation already veering towards a particularly awful Kanda-ish train of thought, with a brewing argument starting to simmer angrily. "But forget it. Just drop it. Pretend I never said anything." She had never been one to back away from a fight, her brute determination and pride always proving too much for her to rein in when provoked; Those senses of self had gotten her into trouble countless times. But of all the times not to be reckless, she simply did not have the heart to do anything.

"…hmph."

The white-haired exorcist shifted on her bottom, the floor proving to be a little cold and hard through the seat of her thin trousers, and returned her attention to the dying woman whose breaths were gradually slowing. She felt as if she owed it to the woman who wasn't her mother to see her off to a place where she could not follow, as a last act of redemption that she had not been quick or strong enough to save her. There was nothing to be done, the exhausted Vienna clergy's medics had said, nothing to be done for someone with a crushed esophagus and who was bleeding to death. Her body was crushed, the broken dying cells in it releasing toxins that would sooner or later kill her with infection. If that did not get her, blood loss and/or shock would, so there was absolutely no use in treating her with their limited precious medical supplies….and blah blah blah. She ignored the medical jargon, pushed to the side their explanations on why they would not help this unfortunate woman, and took no notice of their proclamations of a 100 probability of death. The exorcist had numbly tuned the medics out once she had heard it was useless, the shock too much to bear. Allen had managed to stem the flow with one of her many shirts, but it still poured on thickly as if there had been no makeshift bandage at all. The suffering woman groaned and stirred slightly. In concern, Allen wet a handkerchief with her flask of apple juice, squeezing a few drops into her parched mouth to moisten her thirst.

"I'm sorry, but you can't drink too much with that damaged throat," The exorcist apologized softly though she knew that the woman was only half-conscious and unable to hear her. She bit her lower lip. "I'm so sorry I couldn't do any more for you then, nor can I do anything now…"

"What did you say about the akuma?"

"Eh?"

"Before. You said something."

His voice was brusque, impatient, and harshly grating to her ears. Kanda shifted restlessly and impatiently behind her, and Allen was too tired to acknowledge the anger that suddenly surged through her, at the fact that he did not seem to care to help those around him. He just stood there, like a hulking statue, even more useless than she was. Even Rabi had thrown himself into giving aid, his honest face shadowed with grief and determination to at least fulfill the role of the church in society- that was, to help people. He was giving- quite awkwardly, but not ineffectively- last rites to a dying little girl across the room. Being exorcists, they had all taken the mandatory religion course but had never put it into everyday application before since they were more inclined to kill akuma than read the Bible. The child lay on the pallet still and lifeless like a wax doll, and out of her peripheral vision, Allen saw the redhead bow his head and gently close her eyes with his fingers.

"I said, drop it. You don't want to know. Really." Allen stated wearily, ignoring the older boy and reaching over to tighten the bandage around the woman's throat, slipping two fingers experimentally under so as to make sure it was firmly in place and yet not too tightly on so as to impede breathing. Her voice sounded too thin and fragile to her own ears, strained and slightly hoarse from screaming so much.

"You're an annoying little brat. I do want to know."

Of course, she missed the curious note in his voice, which had softened slightly, and was tinged with a little bit of embarrassment. "I don't recall you ever being so persistent, since you don't care about anyone, remember?"

"I _don't_." Kanda replied, the matter-of-fact tone making her almost wince.

"What I meant," Allen said in resignation and regretting that she ever brought it up, "Was that we're all really alike, the akuma that I killed today and I. We're all cowards at heart."

She was not afraid to admit it, since denying it would only mean that she was even more of a coward, that she would need to evade her problems and faults.

"Like that's anything new to me." Kanda snapped sarcastically.

"And I'm cursed. My eye's exactly like that of one and if Rabi's correct my new weapon uses dark matter."

Allen turned to look at him, and saw that he was actually listening, something that he was definitely not wont to do that much often. Although the expression on his face implied that as much as he had been curious, he was struggling to no avail not to show his interest.

She sighed. "You see…we're all weak. The akuma and I. We both lost something precious. And we both made stupid mistakes, trying to get it back."

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_Kanda's POV_

Kanda blinked, his brain somehow working a lot slower than usual, to process the information given to it. As it was, it nearly short-circuited since it was already damaged from a hit on the head given to him by an akuma that had managed to flail free from Allen's web of dark matter. But the fact that the Beansprout was civilly talking to him, so somber and sad, was surprising in itself.

"You see, we're all weak. The akuma and I. We both lost something precious. And we both made stupid mistakes, trying to get it back."

The younger male bit his lip, a habitual move that Kanda had observed that he used often. Allen's voice was soft, regretful, hoarse, revealing a much softer side of him that Kanda had never before anticipated before. Needless to say, people were people, and not loathe to give out their deepest secrets, and people who were usually secretive all the more less likely to open up to anyone. Even more so the person sitting before him, whose past was shrouded in an unknown light that not even the omniscient Bookman ever talked about. He had always wondered if said Beansprout was ever incapable of being not…stupid, and much to his surprise, he seemed to be dead serious.

And then it struck him, the full realization of the words, and the subtle meaning that he had been too thick to realize at first, unprecedented and surprising as it had been at first that Allen had actually blurted something out to him. The boy was referring to the curse that cut across his eye in a mysterious occult symbol that spoke of evil and wrong; the obnoxiously useless Gatekeeper had been frightened of it, and the hushed fearful tones others had gossiped about it with had been more than enough to enhance its spookiness.

"You didn't, did you?!" Now he knew where the curse on Allen's eye originated-One of he had not known its cause, and merely reasoned that it was some unfortunate event, since according to Komui only humans were ever cursed.

But never something of this magnitude.

The highest orders of wrongdoing was not punishable by the church simply because the culmination of the deed was already retribution enough in its own in the death of the very doer, and that very sin was the consent to construct one of those foul…aberrations, for lack of a much better word. The eighteen-year old wondered of the nerve of the ever-unconventional Marian Cross, to take in someone with such a dirty little secret, to become of all things an exorcist. Eccentric as the revered general was, the irony was almost unacceptable. Letting one who deserved to die enter the order was unforgivable. Allen Walker had made an akuma, and he had deserved to die for it. It was people like him, the little cursed brat, who destroyed the earth and furthered the earl's plans, whether wittingly or not. It was people like him that he despised, people who were too weak and soft-hearted. Emotions were no good, and the Beansprout was firm, unfortunately living, proof of it. Emotions were self-gratifying, and villains like the earl exploited them. And even for all his loud words of saving the world, Allen had allowed his to be exploited

He sucked in a breath, disbelieving that the younger exorcist was alive and well- to a certain extent- before him, and not dead. "You…."

"Yeah. It sure took you a long time, didn't it?" Allen peered at him with too-blue, too-wide eyes, and spoke in a voice hued with assort of tempered, patient bitterness. "I've never told anyone this before. Not even Komui, though I think he suspects it. I know you've always thought of me as an accursed monster, but you didn't realize that I created one myself, right. Don't tell me you've never wondered about where I got the curse from. Well…you've got your answer." His head hung slightly, and again, Kanda saw a hollow smile force its way on his strangely pale face. "I let the earl make an akuma for me when I was little, since I was so lonely after he died…"

"So that was the first time you invocated and killed an akuma, huh, so that it couldn't use your body. Who was it?" He found his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth with shock, the words strangely dry with contempt inside his mouth.

"My adoptive father. I was alone, and I didn't know what to do at the time, and I was so sad."

Kanda just stared, down at the back of Allen's neck since he had turned his face away. The shoulder-length hair at the nape fell away, and he could see the tattoo on the back of his neck, delicately shaded and lined in a blue-black ink. The sprigs and petals of the flowers stood out on the pale, soft skin there in visible contrast. And for a second, he forgot all about the issue at hand, akuma, and his weariness. All he visualized was the bare pale skin at the nape of the younger male's neck, and how soft it had felt under his fingers last night. Kanda shuddered slightly in disdain, feeling slightly nauseated at the horrible trend of thought his mind was currently experiencing, which was so out of place as well since said Beansprout was scum that did not deserve to be an exorcist after what he did. Perhaps he was just tired.

Yes, Kanda was tired, after only an hour or two of sleep, snatched from the trip on the train. Apart from processing what he had just realized, and edgily waiting Allen's response, he found his consciousness suddenly blank out akin to the feeling one would get when staring at a difficult math test. Several minutes of silence passed, and he had soon deluded himself into thinking that it was merely a trick of the eyes, and that the white-haired exorcist did not have tender skin that was so temptingly there and so open for him to touch, so that he could once more feel and reminisce on the sakura petals in his homeland that had the same soft texture. Kanda's eyes narrowed into a feral, angered gaze, disgusted with both his own unwillingness to let go of memories of his past and the other exorcist. Allen was a traitor to what he loudly proclaimed, and what he gazed on was merely a smiling exterior that masked an inner coward. Combined with the weight of what he had just been told, all he wanted to do was to sleep.

Perhaps the other took his disapproving speechlessness as disbelief and anger, since he sighed, and shook his white head. "You didn't know about me creating an akuma til only_ no._ But have I ever given you any reason to doubt me? As I thought, you don't understand."

"Hell I don't." Kanda found himself suddenly saying, his voice laced with much more contempt than he had meant. The exorcist forced himself to rip his gaze away from the Beansprout's neck, almost surprised at how it kept his attention. "I was right, the first time, wasn't I. You were one of the earl's men. Were, yes, but I honestly don't see what General Cross sees in you. Making an akuma….what kind of idiot were you? People don't change. Once a fool, always a fool and you do not deserve to be an exorcist after what you had done."

Kanda had always found his voice to always naturally speak out in a cold fashion, and his tongue unable to be broken of its roughness and suddenness that was hard to keep back. He couldn't stop himself from saying some things, and thus he just left it at that since more misunderstandings would be bothersome anyway. But not even his own consciousness would help him at the moment, since the words simply tumbled out of his unwieldy, traitorous mouth along with all his righteous anger.

He barely noticed that his hand was clenched with a white-knuckled grip around mugen's hilt. Even the feel of cool metal in his grasp failed to calm his rage. Such a piece of filth was actually in the heart of the order itself- it was a horrible truth that his upright soul could not take. It was an affront to what they were all working for every day, and absolute insult and mistake that was uncorrectable. "It's people like you that cause all the trouble, did you know? Because of people like you, akuma exist and the earl builds his army." He demanded, watching with a sense of satisfaction as the Beansprout visibly flinched. "_Coward_."

The hissed word cut through the air with even more malice and aggressive anger than he had even meant it to hold. Kanda had wanted it to hurt; and hurt it did, the visible pain on the younger boy's face apparent. But no fear. Never fear, since this was Allen Walker that he was talking to, the pest that brushed every insult off.

"I know, I know! I tell myself that every day, and-" Allen broke off, his head hanging lower than ever, his chin tucked down and his knees drawn up and hugged to his chest as if to ward off whatever outside forces that may besiege his body. He looked so frail and helpless, although he was already too skinny and small for a boy. His slender shoulders shook slightly under the heavy exorcists' cloak, which was now ripped and bloodstained.

Kanda's eyes narrowed darkly, a corner of his mouth curling up in ridicule. He had no patience for stupid people, and ever more so for people whom were weaklings. As long as life would be for him, there was little time to be spared for such unnecessary diversions. "You and your big words. It's little wonder that you're cursed." He spat.

Bullseye. Wide, blue eyes abruptly filled with raw anger, that flared and then faded into guilt. Kanda held his gaze for a moment and then broke it, the emotion in the Beansprout's eyes strangely compelling sympathy of his own- a reaction that he would liken to that provoked by a kicked kitty or some little scrawny animal of that sort. He tried to squash that feeling, but it clung to him like a pesky gnat. The black-haired exorcist felt his expression gradually softening despite himself, although it was only a subtle change that he knew that Allen would never be able to pick up, since it belied his coldhearted reputation so much. And immediately wished he was able to take the hurtful, blunt words back into his mouth. Turning back time seemed to be a very appealing idea at the moments, so that he could have listened more closely and not passed on harsh judgment so quickly. Even if it was deserved in every way possible. He wished he had never heard the Beansprout admit that he had made an akuma, and killed it with his own very hand- the same one that lay unmoving in its white glove on his lap.

But he couldn't do any of those things, so he simply left the words hanging in the air like a sharp knife. Kanda turned on his heel and left, not even bothering to take care where he stepped, and nearly tripping on a corpse on the way to the door.

However, behind him, he was very much aware of bright tearful eyes burning holes in the back of his cloak. They were unbearably brilliant, and pleading for understanding and forgiveness that he would spitefully never give. All in all, it was not a pleasant sensation in the very least.

------------------ --------- ----------------

They had talked more in the past five or so minutes than they ever had in the past year or so. She'd never would have imagined that Kanda was so verbal, given the fact that he usually only held monosyllabic conversations or threw insults that effectively made further talk impossible. However, Allen Walker did not see that to be a good thing, as the exchange had been less than favorable to her, and no doubt provided him with more ammunition to fling at her in any pending arguments that they may engage in in the near future. She clutched her head and groaned, wondering what had possibly possessed her to tell him one of her not-so-secret-anymore secrets? And one that had been a part of her dark past, one that had somehow clawed its way out of her babbling mouth.

If only those little pills she took for pain relief worked on injuries that were…not physical, so as to say. Allen could not pretend that she did not feel hurt at Kanda's reaction, although she had to grudgingly admit that it was not unexpected, given his highly explosive nature. What had been surprising, however, was her sudden blurting out, randomly, something about her past. That…incident, as she preferred to call it, had simply rolled off her tongue. Not easily- she could feel the lump at the back of her throat quiver with unshed tears- but it had been quite a relief to get it off. Still, she had erred in judgment then, thinking of only her emotions, and any way to relieve her sorrows. It was the same now, how she had simply wanted to tell someone, anyone. And although she knew Kanda would be unreceptive to her telling him that she too was one of those unfortunate akuma-creators, she had told him anyway.

Was he passing silent judgment on her in his mind right now, as he walked alone and brooding in the halls of the cathedral?

Allen knew the irony better than anyone else. How one of the world's greatest sinners, who had not deserved to survive her mistake of making an aberration, had become one of society's protectors. If only she had been killed by the akuma that was and yet was not Mana. If only she was nothing but an akuma, doing nothing but the earl's bidding. If it were so, she would have no life, no will, and would not be hurting so much.

It was only because of the arm she desperately both hated and needed that she had lived on- a most tragic and cruel punishment-to bear her mistake throughout life.

Allen had known ever since afterwards, without Master Cross explaining it, that becoming an exorcist was her only choice, the church her only refuge, and that there was no other use for the arm that had started all of her misfortunes on that day so long ago when she was abandoned. Being an orphan child, there was nothing left in the world for her, and she could merely begin life all over again, _tabula rasa_.

But she had not become an exorcist because of her lack of direction in life, as Master Cross had somberly informed her to do when he picked her up. It was all for the redemption. Like a cross on her shoulders, the guilt would last forever, and all she could do was her job as an exorcist, in a pitiful attempt at redeeming herself.

Her being an exorcist and helping people was all for the sake of casting off the heavy debt that hung upon her shoulders. In a way, it was a punishment for her to live on, to slowly meander and lose her way in the depths of her past wrong. It was for this that she tried to protect people, as if protecting many will account for the one akuma she made. The one akuma that could have killed tens of people for whom thousands, all interconnected in their relations, could grieve for because of the connections, relationships, and bonds that spread to the four corners of the earth and interwove lives and people.

_Redemption_. Like her very own cross which she had to carry throughout life, inching slowly towards the crucifixation, having sacrificed her own life to killing the akuma and devoted it to protecting those who needed it. Heavy and with sharp splinters, it was a large weight upon her spirit and heart, cutting deeper than the harshest flesh wound.

It was all for the absolution of her past, but she couldn't very well expect Kanda with his thick-headed, stubborn personality and prejudices to understand that. Not many people could.

Allen frowned, and began reaching back into her pocket for her diary, feeling the need to jot all her emotions down in the much more tangible form of writing, so that she could get them off her mind and her puny little brain wouldn't liquidate from all the stress. Allen preferred writing things down, so as to get everything down straight, and in a lucid way that her highly emotionally-driven mind simply lacked the ability to process it as. In fact, she was notorious for among the other exorcists for having emotion cloud her judgment at times.

She pawed at the leather cover of the book, seeking it from the myriad of many objects that populated her pocket, from a napping Timcanpi to a fork. However, when she took it out, she promptly dropped it. Her hand was shaking, trembling like a leaf in the heart of a storm, shaking like her own heart was.

The exorcist could barely feel her own body. It was numb, unresponsive, and most of all, refusing to stop its incessant trembling. She buried her head into her knees, drawing herself up into a little protective ball, as if to ward off anything and everything.

All of a sudden, she felt a soft touch on her hand, through the light fabric of the glove that concealed her weapon. Allen raised her head, and stared into a pair of blue eyes that mirrored her own.

"I'm…sorry…" The woman whispered softly, as well as her injured throat allowed her to. Blood gurgled out from under the bandage with every heaving breath she took, along with a strange sucking sound from the air drawn out of her injury; it sounded as if the life was slowly being pulled from her battered form, which was already corpse-like.

"Enough with the apologies. I don't need them." Allen told her, averting her suddenly blurring eyes. When she turned back to look at the other again, however, they were closed to hide her pain and she was smiling. With just a little quivering at the corners of her mouth to give away what she truly felt. She clamped her mouth in a tight firm line on it, willing herself to go on. "I….I'm the one who should be sorry. I could have protected you better. By the way, your son's fine, just a bit bruised. He's with the medics if that's what you want to know. Just don't speak. Save your strength to heal." Although she knew already that healing was impossible for the woman, that she would never again rise from the pallet.

"No…too little…time." The woman coughed up blood, and Allen wiped it away with her wet handkerchief. "I-I want…"

"Water?" Allen asked helpfully. "I only have some apple juice if you want any, but you can't drink too much since your throat-"

She fell silent, with what little false cheer she had mustered breaking off like her voice, which was starting to tear. Almost frantically, she massaged her throat, as if to will her strained vocal cords to work properly. Screaming had done wonders to her voice, and the exorcist knew that it would take much more than a cup of hot lemon tea to sort it all out. Not that there was a single bag of tea in the entire forsaken place, much to her dismay.


	23. The Three Musketeers

Disclaimer: D. Gray man is not mine.

Author's note: Another chapter up, this time the focus shifting back to headquarters. Wah, there's so many things going on in this fic it's getting hard to keep track of everything. Would anyone mind if I include the Rabi x Rinali pairing in this fic as well? Since Allen's already going to be paired up with Kanda, Rinali does really have to put her attentions somewhere else... Please review and let me know what you think.

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23. The 3 Musketeers

10:12 AM; Exorcists' Headquarters, Training facilities

_Rinali's PoV_

It approached her.

Peripheral vision narrowing in on the fast blur of movement, she easily avoided its attack of a rainstorm of bullets showering at a rapid fire that reminded her distinctly of a motorcycle. She looked straight at it, seeing every single bullet cut through air and near her, like a winds assailing her and nearly forcing her back its with majestic, deathly power and threat of sure death. Her wide eyes flickered slightly under the harsh glare of the spotlight that currently enveloped her figure, a deep warm chocolate color that held all of the delicacy's sweetness and melting appearance.

At first, her heart had leapt into her mouth, the sharp unforgiving brightness from above bringing to mind of other similar situations, much more unpleasant and brutal. She tried to keep breathing in and out, each jagged inhalation seeming to rip through her straining lungs, struggling to keep herself from asphyxiating in the terror that suddenly took hold of her mentality and shook it to bits like a helpless ship in a storm.

"No…" She whispered, as if saying the words would save her. "No…stop…I don't want to do this…"

She was dying, and wilting like the last rose in the burning summer heat. She remembered prodding, ungentle fingers, without any regard for personal privacy and for how she felt at such intrusions, especially the needles they poked her with. They had strapped her into a straitjacket, telling her in what was presumed o be a soothing voice that she needed to cooperate. They had put her through many horrors and dangers that she had not realized were merely tests to gauge her exorcist abilities. The dark boots had been heavy and uncontrollable back then, as she stood in the same ring she was in at the moment, killing a faceless 'enemy.' The sole purpose of her life, they had insisted, as she must not be selfish and not waste her God-given talents of utilizing innocence; Saving the world and making martyrs of them all regardless of the natural right of life was most certainly high on their list of priorities.

_They_- who were they? The ironic thing was, as she had meditated long ago upon countless times within the strangling confinement of the straitjacket, that they were those whom preached to protect everyone else. Once she had reconciled herself to that fact, she no longer attempted to carve her sorrow on her wrists anymore and drown her desperation in blood.

The light shone on her skin; it made her blood crawl and tingle, as its brightness was nothing but cold fear, becoming one with the nightmares from dark days she would rather have forgotten and slowly becoming reality once more. Rinali Li stood frozen and deadened like an ice statue in the middle of the ring, trapped in the past, reliving memories of the same ordeal conducted in a more brutal way. The glint of rimless glasses caught her attention beyond the boundaries, and she realized that she must not disappoint the one who broke the chains himself and freed her from the confining eternal night that had been her life when she had first entered the order. Her fate had been worse than death in a way, to the point when she would have gladly welcomed the gates of hell opening before her; but one person changed it all- one brave young man of incredible genius and a penchant for coffee. Namely her brother, whose place in her heart was irreplaceable no matter whom other she looked upon favorably.

The cheers of the onlookers rang in her ears a little too loudly for comfort, making her all the eager to finish her task and end it for once and for all. She invocated her dark boots, and darted into the training ring with all the speed of sonic energy.

Target sighted. Target confirmed. Her leg shot out in a perfect sweeping kick, bringing it effectively to the ground with a loud crash. With a loud cry, the exorcist dealt the unfortunate thing a second kick in the head, spinning in the air and giving the final blow with the hard heels of her boots. Like an angel descending effortlessly to the earth, she returned to the ground with a feather-light landing, regal and ethereal as always.

"Target obliterated." Rinali stated with a forced smile, as the training dummy, a new model of robot developed by Komui, crumpled in a lifeless pathetic heap of wires and smashed machinery a few feet away from her. "Sorry, brother, but I think I broke it beyond repair." She said apologetically, eyeing the remains with a critical eye and ignoring the pounding of her heart which had not yet returned into its correct place in her chest cavity. The feeling of thick cutting straps binding back her arms, rendering her helpless and unmoving, was hard to forget even after so long.

"Mmm…it only took you five seconds twenty-five milliseconds to defeat it. That's alright, it wasn't too good a dummy anyhow." Said scientist, lounging in a corner of the training ring, added 'FAILED' in all capital letters to the data of yet another trial on the ultimate training dummy specially designed for exorcists' use.

"Why are you making _these_ anyway?" Rinali accepted a bottle from a nearby finder and liberally sipped from it. It tasted bitter to her, and she nearly spat it out, as it recalled the disgusting narcotics they used to slip into her food to keep her 'docile.' However, when she spotted the label on the flask, she blanched, and politely returned it to the finder, and with good reason. She had no great liking for asparagus juice, of all things, but Komui had said that it was excellent for the health and she would never put it past him to concocting the vile drink since it 'was for her own good.' A phrase that she had gotten tired of hearing. Countless times of being warned could do that to a person.

"These" referred to a new project of her beloved older brother's, an experiment devoted to developing training dummies specifically for exorcists' use, dummies that would be modeled after akuma. Thus, Komui had reasoned that the exorcists would be much more better prepared for battle if they had trained on the akuma simulations first. However, while Rinali was all in agreement for better preparations, she personally thought that the dummies would have to be a lot more tougher and akuma-like, instead of the pathetic, easily defeated machines that she had previously tested. She had not even broken out into a sweat fighting them, and was fairly sure that the akuma would pose little challenge to the other exorcists and provide inadequate training.

"Um, brother," she said tentatively, in as gentle a tone as she could use so as not to hurt his feelings. "These dummies will have to be a bit…stronger, if we exorcists are going to train with them. We need to be challenged, you see…"

Komui smiled and tweaked his glasses a bit further up on his nose. "These are just the preliminary ones. I have better ones to try out, so you will have to stick around a little longer to test them."

"But- brother, akuma evolve and the higher level ones are usually different in their skills and what they use. So how are all the possibilities going to be covered?"

"My machines evolve too! You see, if you press this button it will activate the…"

Rinali was too polite to comment as her brother launched into a long, winding explanation of mechanical jargon and other such pointless details that she did not need to know. Men glorified in hands-on things and insignificantly detailed operations like that, but she did not want to hurt Komui's feelings and thus feigned understanding and interest. However, her yawn was hard to suppress, as wide as she forced her smile to go.

"…and then it becomes a level three. Now, to simulate dark energy I've used a laser instead, but…"

"Um, Brother, can I try it out?"

Komui blinked, startled from his long verbal discussion with thin air, and beamed at her. "Of course! Just wait a minute, I need to do some fine-tuning-"

Rinali sighed in relief as he went to work with screwdriver and drill, glad that her innocent request had stopped him from further educating her on training dummies. As always, when her mind was not occupied, her thoughts flew an entirely different direction onto a certain white-haired exorcist. She squeaked in horror as her face suddenly flamed at the thought of his cheerful smile, the blood rushing hotly underneath her normally pale skin and turning it a baked embarrassed red- a color that she found herself turning more and more recently, with her coming to terms of her feelings for Allen.

"Rinali, what's wrong?" River Wendell, who was collecting the pieces of machinery scattered all over the middle of the ring, looked at her in concern.

"Aaa-nothing!" She gasped, hurriedly bending down and helping him gather the many wires and metal pieces, lowering her face in order to hide its current brilliant colour.

"Saa…if that's what you say." River said neutrally, his eyes lazy and heavy lidded. "But I think Chief will think otherwise if he sees you like that."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean."

"Oh. That's too bad then. By any chance, can you be thinking of a certain white-haired-mmmph!" The assistant's eyes widened as she quickly clamped her hand over his mouth, preventing him from making any more incriminating statements. Komui was looking at them strangely, and she gave him a cheery wave and a smile. And was relieved when he returned the gestures with his own.

"Shh!" Rinali hissed, blushing, removing her hand and placing a finger over her lips. "Please don't say any more."

"So am I right?"

"…" Rinali flushed, and turned her head away sadly. Her having feelings for Allen was one thing, but whether they could possibly be reciprocated was an entirely different matter.

"Walker's a nice guy, friendly too. The sensitive new-age guy, is that what you ladies call 'em?" River commented optimistically. "Young love, ah, I'm so envious. Well, good for him. I'll talk with Chief if he's against it. Can't keep all the boys away forever, eh?"

"He knows, and he approves for the most part." Rinali said cautiously.

"Is that so? I fear for Walker then, poor boy. He's scared to death of Chief's power drill." River muttered.

Rinali could only laugh nervously in agreement, as Komui called for her to prepare herself for yet another trial in the ring. She stretched languidly from side to side, and pulled her arms over her head, feeling the muscles there flex gently. The dummy was already in the middle of the ring, and her brother waited with the remote for it in hand. His thumb moved over the on button, and the machinery came to life, the electric current suddenly flowing through its wires to animate it into an enemy that was very similar to a level two akuma, although its appearance was not close enough to be truly convincing.

Her legs were lightweight and speedy, as she dodged the first attack, which was a good deal faster than that of the previous models which she had already tested. But there was little time to ponder the differences, since the akuma-like dummy suddenly turned and fired at her. Its hateful round bulbous shape was surrounded by many guns, all of which were pointed at her- they all fired simultaneously, peppering the floor with projectiles behind her as she ran a little further away.

At the moment, there was little that the exorcist could do other than avoid its blows like she would an akuma, since she needed to get closer for her weapon, the dark boots, to truly be of any real damage. She decided to take to the air, and attack from above.

Once up there, she was truly in the heart of the fight, giving her body over to the feathery sensation of gliding through the air on an innocence-borne flight, her legs strongly propelling her into nothingness and soaring above all else. As a child growing up in China, Rinali had often marveled at the bamboo forests which seemed to stretch up to infinite limitless sky with their green woody stalks, firmly reaching into the air like fingertips raised in praise to the heavens. Years later, she was on the same level as the, and could truly create the feeling of being closer to the Creator, and familiarize herself with the weightless sense of being airborne. It was the closest she would ever get to flying, soaring away from her overprotective brother and being capable of being a woman in her own.

However, the scene was not perfect in her eyes; flying so freely had never disappointed her so before. Rinali, today, felt little of the euphoria that usually accompanied her when she was in the air. She was restless, her heart beating unusually fast against her rib cage and her face still too hot, and thus was unable to settle down for an attack.

"Hyyaaah!"

With the speed that had made her an exorcist, she leapt on top of it, and using the innocence-enforced strength of her legs, Rinali smashed right into its head, giving one stamp for good measure and taking again to the air.

"Enbu Kirikaze!!!!"

She did not even bother to look behind her as the whirlwind ripped into the dummy with a righteous fury, thrashing it into the air and mercilessly breaking it into many wires, metal pieces and numerous little gadgets that soon littered the ring in the attack's wake.

"Four minutes fifty seconds. A little more challenging than you expected, ne?" Komui called jovially across to his sister, who was brushing herself off free of the dust that had been stirred up on the floor in the duration of the fight. "This model's pretty good then if it can stand up to my Rinali-chan!"

His eyes sparkled with huge, shiny highlights and brimmed over with praise for mentioned little sister, consecutively leading to corresponding groans from his onlooking colleagues whom were all fairly familiar with this shamelessly blatant expression of brotherly love. River Wenham shrugged, and she sweatdropped slightly. It was bad enough that everyone, even Allen of all people, tended to wake him up with the false statement that she was getting married- a fact that had him up and alert in no time with power drill at the ready. And her with a mortified blush on her face. Sometimes Komui was simply too embarrassing, his antics childish even though he was still a highly respected and awesome scientist of high ranking. The lattermost was something hard-won, as gossip about his quick promotion being attributed to her occupation as an exorcist and not his personal skill was something he had to work to disprove.

"It's an excellent robot, brother." Rinali agreed wearily, not wanting to oppose him since he would only be reduced to a wibbling heap and that was not too good an appearance for one who was supposed to be so high and mighty as the chief. She was slightly surprised that anyone could actually take him seriously with his stinky bunny slippers, sister complex, and a host of other questionable behaviors.

She huffed slightly, a little disappointed at her performance- the fact that it took her five minutes against an imperfect akuma-wannabe created by her brother was rankling. Rinali could easily hold her own against an akuma, even if she did not possess the raw brute force of Crowley's attacks or the energy of Rabi's seals. She was a decent exorcist, and thus it had greatly offended her when Allen Walker had decided to fight on his own in the timewinding town, bearing all the responsibility and bringing down most of their enemies as well. It was frankly insulting how he had not seen her as a competent exorcist in her own right, equal to his level, but instead as something to defend. Rinali was not someone to be protected and cast aside to safety like some sort of porcelain doll- perhaps it was just Allen's nature to protect all he could, including close friends, but she did not think it was necessary given her own abilities.

Allen Walker was a sensitive boy; the pigtailed exorcist had noticed his soft, kind heart from the very moment he had entered the order, from the way he treated others and had stopped Kanda when the eighteen-year old was antagonizing supporters in his usual arrogant fashion in the cafeteria. He had cried when Lala had broke, and his desire to keep on walking and fighting the good fight had never diminished, something that she greatly admired since exorcists tended to be disillusioned and jaded from their arduous unforgiving jobs which reaped no rewards. An exorcist to be respected with his sunny smile and laughably gluttonous habits, Allen had become a part of many's hearts, especially her own, and the exorcist headquarters did not seem like home without his uplifting presence, whether it be haunting the training rings (if he could get there) getting lost in the halls (likely), or in the cafeteria guzzling food (nearly a 100 possibility).

Rinali felt herself flushing redder and redder, and River Wenham's knowing look shot deliberately from across the room did nothing to make it better. Nothing seemed all right when she couldn't see his bright smile, as she couldn't now. She hated it so much, but yet loved it so. Although it was detached and vague, hinting of secrets but yet never divulging them, she wanted to see it. She wanted to know its mysteries, and see him smile only for her.

It would make everything right, then. Like now, she had known that she could have finished the dummy off in two minutes or less, given her natural speed and agility which was only further enhanced by invocating the dark boots. A level two akuma was incapable of keeping up with the sonar speed and inhuman strength with which her legs were able to carry her. However, Rinali was puzzled with her lack of enthusiasm and motivation to fight, even as the bullets had targeted her. It was not just the fact that the dummy was not too convincing an akuma, and its skills still not up to par with that of a real one; even with such an inadequate stand-in, practicing on it would usually have been no problem since she was well-practiced at envisioning a battle as if it were the real thing. However, her concentration kept on getting off focus, her mind wandering and entirely not set upon the situation at hand, no matter how precarious it was to not be paying attention. Her heart seemed to be detached from her body, and somewhere else, far far away, a good distance from the Order Headquarters where only a train or her own wings of imagination could possibly take her.

At lunch, the food tasted like bland sand, even though it was one of Chef Jerry's best offerings of drool-worthy gourmet cuisine: his award winning escargot. Rinali could only pick at her food miserably, prodding sadly at the poor little snails lying with their corpses still in their shells drowned with a sauce of melted butter and garlic. She ate one, grimaced, and decided to spare the snails to the cruel mercies of her brother, who promptly relieved them of being poked with her fork and stuffed them into his already burgeoning mouth. Dessert was just as horrible, with a slice of strawberry-flavored cheesecake that she too gave to Komui, who was more than happy to devour it as he did the unfortunate snails. It looked too saccharine for her dank mood, too pink, too creamy, and too sweet. Chef Jerry grew concerned, and wondered aloud if his cooking was losing its fine flavor and as a result Rinali spent no little time consoling him and reassuring him that his food was lovely, but a little too much for her to stomach at the time. Simultaneously, River snorted into his chocolate pudding and muttered something about that _blasted_ Walker better getting back soon, the little brat, couldn't he at least kiss the girl and put her out of her misery so she wouldn't be moping all over the place?! At which Rinali found herself turning red again for the third time that day, as Komui eyed her suspiciously with righteous jealousy of an overprotective brother.

Confronted with Komui's suspicions, Rinali decided that she would lie low for a while and find a comfy little place to 'mope,' where she would be a safe distance away from his gentle but yet cruel ministrations. The library was a serene place, with a restriction on chatter and thus it made the perfect place where she could relax and think upon the feelings which she had only recently reluctantly accepted. Moreover, most people were out on lunch break, and there was no one else in the large book-filled room with her. To stand in the empty library was almost a nostalgic sensation, that brought back memories that pushed all lovesick thoughts out of her head, at least for the time being.

When they were younger, Rinali would sit down at a table with Rabi and Kanda, and they would just sit there and read, quietly enjoying the company of each other, without a single needed word. Which was absolutely fine with Kanda, since he was generally antisocial anyway and didn't like to talk much. Rabi, ambitious and loud, would bring huge stacks of books over to the table and drop half of them in the process, at which Kanda would swear softly and facefault, and Rinali immediately spring up to help the poor redhead. Kanda would then tell her not to help since Rabi had deserved it anyway, in a voice that was much gentler and higher than the one she was familiar with now, as back them he was not yet so cold and his voice still a childlike alto at twelve years old. Although they were completely different from each other, complete different extremes in personality and appearance, they were still friends.

As three young exorcists in a world of adults, they had instantly banded together, Rabi and Kanda closer to each other than they were to her, but that was entirely understandable since they were the same in age and both male. The two years difference between she and them was something that was still a little difficult to surmount, as at the age of twelve they were much more worldly-wise than her ten when they had first met.

Six years later, they now rarely sat together like that in the library, Rabi's appetite for books having become so large that he often needed an entire table of his own to spread out his reading material. Kanda would much rather frequent the training ring than the library, and never dropped by anymore, being obsessed with training; she often found it ironic that the better he got at swordsplay, the more he was inclined to train although he did not quite as much need the extra practice anymore, having come a long way from not being able to swing the sword right. Her suicidal days of loneliness in the order being happily forgotten, Rinali herself was completely absorbed in her task of being her brother's assistant, a demanding job of filing papers, brewing coffee, and generally doing what her brother never did on his own.

All in all, their little library clique never gathered any more as they once did, every afternoon at two sharp for a little companionship and reading. By and by, as people tended to do as the years weathered, they had drifted apart from spending leisure time together to only seeing each other if sent on the same mission, being bonded together by fighting the same enemy instead of reading books.

Allen's arrival in the order had brought them closer in yet another way, his sunny disposition demanding that all people opened their hearts to him, which they all did gladly, but Rinali had at first felt that with the addition of his presence, Kanda began isolating himself even more, since he couldn't bear to accept someone like that; Rabi began getting closer and closer with 'Beansprout-chan' as he fondly called the boy, but didn't let it affect his friendship with Kanda, which was a very very strong tie that was practically unbreakable, no matter how indifferent and cool Kanda acted.

She spotted a newspaper lying on a table, spread out and she picked it up, careful not to lose the page whomever was reading it before had stopped at. The paper was hot from the press, dating just an hour ago; the international news that was printed by the Order and distributed among those in the clergy, . The headlines in large bold-type font across the entirety of the first page startled and upset her.

"Seven hundred rise in a bloody protest in London against inflating taxes." What she read horrified her. The thought of the corrupt English nobles that dominated large properties sending out people out to brutally crush the rebellious proletariats horrified her. Tensions were high, obviously, in that country since the economy had all but failed on them, diving into a slump and the stock market crashing. Goods were being overproduced in the factories since people could not afford to buy anything; moreover, with taxes rising, the working class would be hard-pressed to find money, especially as many were already being laid off from the large industrial cities to conserve dwindling capital and lessen the output of products which would only go to waste since no-one was rich enough to purchase them anyway. Except for the higher classes, she thought savagely, all of which paid little attention to what lay outside of their gloriously furnished mansions, their utterly wasteful lavishness contrasting cruelly against the poverty that struck most of the population. Her compassionate soul was sensitive to injustice and such horrible cruelty, and Rinali angrily crumpled the paper in her hands in a display of anger that was most rare for her, giving her high sense of self-control and responsibility. Childish displays of emotions were unusual for her.

"How could they-how could they?! They're people…oh!" Realizing that it was not her paper, and that someone had been reading it before her, Rinali hastily smoothed the abused newspaper out as best as she could, and set it back on the table. However, another article caught her eye and she, reluctant to experience any more sympathetic anger for the plight of others, picked it back up.

" 'China faces famine because of inadequate rice crop.'" She read aloud in horror, eyes widening to their full extent at the thought of her native homeland suffering. Scanning it, she saw that as far as the scientists at the Eastern Headquarters were concerned, the crops were being felled by a mysterious virus that turned the stalks blackened and dry. Bak had declined to comment on the situation, and Rinali felt a pang in her heart. He was infatuated with her much like the way she was with Allen, and yet he could never get his feelings returned- a situation much like hers." 'The Philippines are beset by typhoons.' 'Entire force of Black Priests are exterminated in Paris.' 'Huge akuma massacre in Ireland.'"

The exorcist's head snapped up in surprise. Ireland- someone from the headquarters had been summoned there to reinforce the exorcists there and also to pick up a sample of potato for Komui to analyze to deduct the reason for the strange famine which was also present in China. "Ireland!" She gasped. " My God…Miranda!"

The chronically depressed time-wielding exorcist had been gone for quite some time, for about two months, which created a shortage of available apostles in the order, since Crowley and Rabi had been sent to France shortly after Miranda left, and thus the burden of other missions had been left to mostly her, Allen, and Kanda. The latter two were not very compatible as partners with each other, unfortunately.

"I hope she's all right…" She mumbled, worried.

Allen…was someone everyone sooner or later would accept, either for his bravery or his kindheartedness. The only exception was Kanda, but Rinali was sure that he would be able to win the cold-hearted exorcist over someday; she was just as sure that Allen would never stop trying to talk to Kanda and hopefully gain his friendship. Or what the white-haired boy desperately sought was more along the lines of respect, but she couldn't be sure. Getting merely _recognition_ from the Japanese exorcist would be a feat.

It had been the way he had tossed his white hair back from his face and grinned roguishly at her that had brought flutters to her stomach and heart. It did not matter to her if he was cursed, no matter what horror stories her brother would desperately tell her in an attempt to stop what he considered her 'infatuation.' It was no short lasting obsession of hers. Rinali had never believed in love at first sight, and indeed, she still did not believe in it, being somewhat of a realist. However, he had drawn her in over time, in a strangely magnetic attraction, luring her to ever get closer and closer to his brightly burning flame. The three reading mouseketeers plus one, she mused, would not be a bad thing. After all, the King's Musketeers had D'Artagnon. To revive the old tradition of reading in the library together was nearly an inexistent dream, only something that she could wistfully think about. After all, Kanda was at odds with Allen, being the silly boys that they were, the former much more sillier than the latter since he was the one picking the fights after all. Of course, she was slightly biased. Not even Rabi's intervention could keep the two from sniping at each other, one offensive with insults and the other defensively protesting. The British boy had quite a backbone, to stand up to the notoriously ill-tempered Japanese exorcist who had a reputation for terrorizing supporters so thoroughly that the groups of finders that were supposed to aid on missions had to be drawn from a hat, nobody wanting to have a run-in with the infamous temper. The only finder that was willing to accompany Kanda was the loyal Toma, and that was just one singular person. Rinali had not yet confirmed his sanity, although he was a very nice, friendly finder.

Kanda was alone, one single man against the great big world, with his heart closed to all, whatever human feelings he had being suppressed, and his glare keeping all but the most contrary and insane away from him- a thick barrier, so hostile it was nearly visibly tangible in all its seclusion. He was but one person, and one person was weak; the strength of mugen and a powerful temper would not be enough of a shield, nor would it protect him from anything, if nothing but brute force and lashing out would sustain it. That was nothing when considering the frailness of being without any support nor companionship in a cold world.

Rinali would feel sorry for him, but would never allow him to know it, as she suspected that he was not above hitting girls. Pity was not something that one could ever express for him, not when one was the center of his heated glare, which was sharp enough to cut diamond.

The clock in the library tolled, the little birdie in the glass panel shooting out and uttering two loud piercing squawks, which Rabi would have mocked by doing a flawless imitation had he been there with her. Back then, before the boys' voices had deepened, Rabi had been able to imitate nearly any sound be it a cat's mewl to a phone's ring- a singular talent (which Bookman always scoffed at) that had never failed to wow her.

"It's two." Rinali said softly, looking at the library devoid of people, the books sitting lonely and unread upon the shelves.

It was two, and was time for their little trio, the original Mouseketeers to gather once more, united by their reading and their comfortable silence.

But two of them were gone, leaving one to sit by herself, lost in her own lonesome little world, believing in a childhood ritual that was no longer existent nor recognized anymore.


	24. Potato

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man, it belongs to Hoshino-sensei.

Author's Note: Extremely sorry for the delay in updating. Thanksgiving and vacation homework got in the way, as did studying for tests. Thank you all so much for the reviews!♥ 12 of them -that's the most I've ever got for a chapter. For the most part, people seemed to be ok with the RabiRinali pairing. To tell the truth, I am a little nervous about how I'll protray this pairing, since I really like both of the characters, especially Rabi. God forbid they become OOC in the pursuit of love. Speaking of OOC, i'm not sure if I wrote Miranda in character at all, so please let me know what you think.

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24. Potato

The Exorcists' Order; 2:11 PM

Komui had a terrible habit of leaving everything until the last moment, something that was not at all a wise choice considering how much work he was responsible for each day. Eventually, everything would accumulate, stack up, and look so intimidating that the scientist would sigh, moan, groan, and flop his head on his desk to return to sleep. As the head of the department of science, much work came along with his high position. However, the pay and perks were constants, never increasing. Vacation was a near-unheard of word in the order, as it simply was not in the vocabularies of those whom were responsible for the prevention of total annihilation by the earl. Many, many things like projects, budgets, and salaries usually had to be passed through his approval. But since Komui never did and never will do absolutely any of it, things in the Science department usually moved at a slow pace, making it so that nothing could ever be achieved.

Because of the fact that higher-ups had very little appreciation for lateness, the remaining staff of the Science Departments had had little alternative but to divide up their chief's work and complete it for him when the end of the month drew near. Reports on monthly activities and experiments had to documented, paychecks sent out, and the agenda for the next month established. It was no pleasant experience, pulling twenty-four hour shifts that left everyone cranky, snappish, and their senses deadened by a caffeine overdose. As efficiency demanded, they had split up the huge workload in regard to whom was best qualified to do what. Unfortunately, few other than Squad Leader River were capable of doing half of the blasted stuff, or at the very least brave enough to admit it and take on part of the burden. There was quite a margin of human error on his part since he had not slept for days and was not performing so well. Naturally, in all the confusion and frenzy caused by the approaching deadline, some papers had been mixed up/lost/ripped up by a crazed, infuriated River as well.

It had been all a mistake that Miranda had been assigned to the Ireland case. A mistake, like everything she did, and everything that her life represented. But for once it was not her own fault, but that of Komui's inability to organize and read paperwork. She had first been transferred to Berlin on a classified mission with other exorcists, but after General Cloud Nine had arrived, she was told to go to either China or Ireland to gather information on the living quality and the suffering crops. Allen and Kanda had been exorcising an old church with Rinali, and she had been originally assigned there as well, but Allen's papers had accidentally replaced hers in River's mad shuffle to get the documents approved on time. Bookman was supposed to have taken the Ireland case along with Rabi after they had returned from Germany, but as it was Komui had intervened for the purpose of sending Rabi along with Kanda and Allen to Vienna to act as mediator in any…tense situations between the two and also as backup. A strange boom of the akuma population had occurred around there, and it had not been known whether it was due to the Earl's production or the presence of innocence. His pupil having been dispatched separately, Bookman had been sent off on a more dangerous lone mission, but for what she had not been informed of. Crowley had also been to Berlin, and was supposed to assist her on another mission to England, but later the idea had been scrapped due to the lack of manpower and the file folder for England floating around in some remote unknown corner in the office.

The journey to Ireland and back had been anything but uneventful. Barely ten minutes out to sea, and they had been attacked by akuma, causing them to lose a quarter of the crew. Three level threes would have been enough of a handful for two exorcists to take on, much less only one, herself, and one that had little offensive ability at all. They had taken a necessary retreat, straight into the eye of a brewing storm. Which lost them an additional quarter of the crew, and left them with only half the manpower needed to take the ship to Ireland. Miranda had played the part of cook to fulfill the need for human resources, and had unfortunately had rendered half of the remaining sailors unable to work for days because of her terrible dishwater stew. There had not been much to cook anyway, considering how they had been forced to jettison most of their supplies already, including much of her luggage and the crates of food. And after she had fallen from the mast in an attempt to help out, broke the steering wheel and accidentally dropped the compass, the crew had already deemed her unfit to sea life, which made her wail and catapult herself off the ship in an effort to end her life. Of course, they rescued her as all the damages to the ship would revert themselves upon her death, with the broken steering wheel, broken compass, and broken mast. And thusly once she had gotten to Ireland her injury from falling from the mast had come back, and she was forced to recuperate in a dank little hospital- definitely not a good thing since she was sent to reinforce the Black Order exorcists already there. And once Miranda had been back into action, she had to encounter of all nasty things, Skin Boric, a man whose name was as unpleasing to the ears as the man was to the eyes. The entire lot of Noahs all had peculiar names, from Ticky to the Jasdavid brothers, but she couldn't have expected any more from such villains. Nothing more than a massacre of innocents- something, no doubt, that was liable to cause much sorrow and as a result more akuma production. The Earl was not a typical dimwitted villain, even if his ridiculous appearance belied that fact, and Miranda had been fully aware that Chief Komui's grim predictions for this case were all entirely true.

As if Ireland was not bad enough, the journey home was far worse. From being stranded off the coast of Taiwan (due to a severe miscalculation of direction), and having an infestation of rats on board and akuma off, it was a wonder that they had even made it safely into harbor in one piece. Needless to say, when she released her time stop, the ship had fallen apart and sunk below the murky waters, never to be seen again. And now Miranda was standing in front of the Tower once more, returning to make her report.

The cliff behind her jutted out sharply, and turned down in a most frightening slope of craggy rocks, which would mean a most painful and unsightly death, not at all the type of end she eagerly would envision herself in. She turned slightly, and eyed the cliff with a longing eye; the large door guardian cast her an observatory gaze in the customary examination, trailing sharply from the darkened eyes, to her broken arm hanging uselessly in a sling, down her sallow and slender form, to end at the church-issued boots. If Miranda wasn't so afraid of heights and wouldn't be oh _so_ embarrassed at the thought of the impending _splattering _sound her body would make at the bottom, she would have just jumped. Right off. Right in front of the dark dank building the exorcists called 'home.' It wasn't home, at the very least not to her. Home was where she could sit and cuddle up with her pillow, and slit her wrists, and do all sorts of unhealthy self mutilation and wallow in self pity. However, the exorcist reminded herself that that had been the past, which she had put aside. Besides, her new friends had always told her she had a morbidly unhealthy obsession with her self-worth, or lack thereof. Moreover, she also felt that it would be terribly impolite to the order if she died on their doorstep, of all places.

The door looked more and more threatening to her, the seconds trickling slowly along like some thick viscous liquid misplaced in an hourglass. Miranda trembled and quavered beneath the scrutiny- as cowardly as the gatekeeper was known to be, her easily agitated nerves rendered her back to her old depressed state, a condition that would even surpass that of that large miserable old door. The examination went on for a minute, two or three, and then some more. Miranda's knees shook with the thought of being rejected, as so many had done before, the same old fear of cold glances starting to explode into sheer hysteria. The feelings crept into her throat to strangle her. So when the gatekeeper asked her name in a booming tone she could do little but give a mute mouse-like sound, a cross in between a little squeak and a moan. She was hyperventilating, she was choking, she was _dying_! In a wild burst of insanity, she found her feet swiftly taking her senseless body towards the precipice, where the comforting but yet horrific thought of a sheer drop and death awaited her.

No, she musn't! Frozen in her hysteria, she retracted her foot from the edge and thought with puzzlement about what reason she had for not killing herself off. Her death would be meaningless if there was no point. But then again there was no point in living either…oh dear. Miranda felt her suicidal tendencies starting to overtake her once more after that one bit of momentary clarity. Her emotional instability and remembrance of suppressed traumatic feelings often impeded in judgment, often making her choices extreme and unreasonable. A sudden thought struck her, so hard that she thought herself a fool and her previous idiocy died away. She must not, since exorcists were supposed to go down in battle. Also….Chief Komui had to…yes, the potato! He _needed_ that potato! Bidden by golem, she had nearly jumped with joy when she received the order ( in the middle of a battle with several very persistent akuma, of all places), since that meant that she was recognized as an exorcist and she was trusted to do the job. She was needed, wanted to live. And a very weighty job it was, the hardest yet; being a exorcist was far more work than being say a cook or some other paltry occupation she had worked at before. The spotty, shriveled, and rotting potato tucked carefully in a bag would keep her from dying, at least temporarily. Rationalization would do the rest for her, reasoning that she had a purpose, a duty as exorcist.

The door opened on rusty and worn hinges, and a bright little black head popped out, two ponytails waving hello in the wind that haphazardly blew the strands this way and that.

"Welcome back, Miranda!" Rinali said with her usual sweet smile, an expression that Miranda could not help but return, as she followed her into the warmth of the tower. The air within was heated and carried mouthwatering aromas that wafted from the direction of the kitchens-a sure sign that Chef Jerry was in the process of making dinner. It was a welcome change from the European dampness, with stench of dying and rotting flesh and diseased crops, and soaked in the coppery smell of blood. "How was the condition in Ireland?"

"Um...er..."

Miranda bit her lip, and instinctively felt the throbbing pain of the injury to her left arm. Painkillers did not dull the pain, nor could she ignore it for long, for inevitably she would again fall to dark thoughts that all centered on her inability to keep the time freeze for a longer period of time. Even two seconds could mean the life of a finder, and could be the decisive turning point in any battle. What was time but an illusion, but there to tease and torment and remind humans of the sand running quickly in the hourglass, and the briefness of everything? Chuckling nervously, Miranda pointed at the sling, and Rinali's large eyes narrowed slightly as she drew in a shaky breath.

"Um…not very good." She mumbled.

"My God…" The younger female gasped, and inspected the crude cast. "Why didn't you have a healer look at it?" She demanded, her fingers running over the makeshift bandages that consisted of a torn cloak and the clumsily constructed sling.

Miranda shook her head, lowering her eyes. "They took out the healers and finders, to make sure we didn't have any supporters…" Her voice cracked. "…then…they massacred them all, to the very last one. Any doctor, medic, surgeon, or nurse. Anyone with medical training."

Hollow, quiet, and with little emotion, her voice was as dead as she felt- tired, worn, and battered by the occurrences of the past few weeks. The halls were empty as it resounded ominously, and the path to Komui's office was devoid of even his assistants running around bringing documents to and fro. Miranda guessed that either Komui had finally achieved the near-impossible task of finishing all his paperwork or that the order was short of personnel. The latter was far more likely, giving that the limits to the heights that the stacks of books and papers could possibly reach were the heavens alone.

"Everyone's off…" Rinali said, as if to answer her wondering thoughts. "Several assistants were transferred to areas that needed additional help. It's been…very quiet around here lately."

She sounded so frail and sad, wistful as if pining for something that she could see but could not grasp within her hand. Rinali bit her lower lip, an action that did not go unseen by Miranda, who used the pretense of fussing with the collar of her cloak to avoid looking at the younger exorcist. Miranda sighed, knowing that she herself had little courage to intervene in other peoples' affairs, being incapable of even taking care of her own, and thus she was of little use to Rinali at the moment.

"Um…ah…Ri-Rinali, um…"

She was stammering, the words unable to be clearly conveyed, and her intentions left hanging in the air. Rinali turned her a questioning look, and Miranda practically wilted under the attention, immediately uneasy and apprehensive. Was the girl angry at her?...Miranda's immediate reaction was to squeak nervously. Little use as always, and she would have liked nothing better than throwing herself out of a window at the moment. The time-wielder was still getting used to social interactions, which to her were extremely nerve-racking and usually culminated in her inferiority complex flaring up once more and a desire for suicide, so she would not have to face the world. A world which used to stick its tongue out at her, thumb its nose and jeer at her incompetence. Have courage, poor heart. As stern as the words to herself were, her chronic depression and the remembrance of failing at previous jobs would always be stronger than her will.

She opened her mouth to inquire, but Rinali waved the already known question off with a sigh and a frown. "Please. Miranda. Don't bring it up. Everyone's been asking me what's wrong all day. I can't tell you, even if I actually knew what was wrong. It's just a feeling. I can't really explain it, but…"

Miranda bobbed her head submissively, reduced to silence once more. Once they reached the office, Miranda hesitatingly took the handle and turned it, looking at Rinali as if for assurance.

"Don't worry, my brother doesn't bite."

The failed attempt at a joke sounded terribly pointless and forced to Miranda's ears, which were quick to sense untruth, and she morosely began going in. The door tugged open on smooth hinges well oiled and maintained, unlike those of the rest of the tower. The loud, roaring, jagged sound reminiscent of a chainsaw was sufficient evidence that the revered head of the science department was once more deep in slumber, a state that he was often found in- not because he actually _needed _the sleep, but because it was a welcome diversion to the loads of work that his subordinates would eventually be forced to complete in his stead.

"I'll bring tea along later, please tell Brother that."

"It's Allen Walker who's troubling you, isn't it?"

This was one of the times when her stupid mouth simply blurted out whatever was on her mind; unlike others, she generally regarded this as something beneficial, since otherwise she would have little pluck to speak what she truly felt. Not that anyone cared, as the world did not coddle people. Miranda was much, much more perceptive than most gave her credit for, as inferior as she usually thought herself to be, and the sadly short stint she had a year or two ago as a fortuneteller had been enough to cue her in on the behaviors of those madly in love. However, she was not entirely sure if she was correct or not, as the customers to her dilapidated little booth were more often than not only lovesick teenage girls whom wanted to acquire future knowledge on whom their 'destined beloved' would be. More often than not, she usually gave them answers which were very unsatisfactory to them, which led to her termination after a measly six days.

Rinali, unfortunately, didn't seem to hear her sicne she was already leavign the hall; Miranda reasoned that the girl would be too polite to ignore her anyway, so she left it at that and went inside. Komui, as she had predicted, was happily snoring away in his fluffy dreams of coffee and a vacation to some tropical akuma-less region.

"Um…C-Chief?" She stammered softly. "C-Chief?"

"Chief, Rinali's getting _married_."

The voice that sounded from beyond a heaping pile of books startled her immensely, and Miranda upon reflex activated her innocence until she deemed that the mysterious speaker was not some sort of enemy- a ridiculous notion anyhow considering that she was in the Black Order. She clutched her pounding heart, which had gone haywire with worry; her nerves were still fired up from her dangerous trip home. Timidly, she peeked around the books to see just whom it was.

"River?" She stared at the drooping, fatigued figure that was the squad leader, before she realized that it was simply not polite to stare so much and turned her eyes to other things. She immediately wished that she had not, for the other workers were in just as bad a condition. From what she could barely see behind the massive stacks of work that obscured them from the world, their eyes were rimmed with black and red, and appeared almost restlessly psychotic despite their fatigue with the influence of more caffeine than their systems could handle. "Oh. My God."

Komui had not stirred once, even after River had stated countless times that Rinali was getting married, and would be moving to the Bahamas, and would quit her job as an exorcist, and most importantly was pregnant with septuplets or something along the lines to that effect….et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. And on continued River's grim speech on all the horrible possibilities that could happen to Rinali.

"Squad leader…he's probably really tired…shall we leave him-"

"No, we're not leaving him alone." River said dismissively, with a sigh. "I haven't slept in six days myself. All that's keeping me alive is that newfangled energy drink that Chief dreamed up out of nowhere, surprised it didn't kill us yet….he calls it Red Bull or something like that…"

Miranda shivered in fright as the irate squad leader grabbed a loudspeaker, and began shouting into Komui's ears. The sound being funneled into his ears no doubt would have made him deaf had he not woken up and batted the offending device away.

"I'm up, I'm up…" He sprang upright, adjusted his beret, and took a swig out of his mug. Miranda shifted from side to side on her feet before he blinked, suddenly noticed her, and pasted a smile on his thin face. "Oh, Miranda! Welcome back to the Order."

"The potato, sir, you wanted one?" Miranda opened her suitcase, dug through it for the paper bag it had neatly been place in and handed it to him. Brown, shriveled, speckled with sickly spots, and stinking with rot, it was a sad little vegetable that easily fit in Komui's palm, so undernourished it had been. He clucked and his eyes narrowed, as he turned it this way and that in the light.

"Were all the crops like this?" He asked sharply, looking at her.

"…yes." Miranda said, straightening up from slipping the clasps of her suitcase closed, a bit frightened by the sudden change in his tone, and already wondering what she had done wrong.

He gave her a brief, tight smile, as if to reassure her, before he snapped his fingers. Almost immediately, a most curious mechanical device clomped over on heavy steel feet and held out a tray filled with tools that she had never encountered before in all her many occupations. She watched as he lifted up something that resembled a hybrid between a butcher knife and a spoon, placed the potato on a randomly chosen book, and begin expertly dissecting it with the skill of a true scientist, for all his unprofessional appearance. Miranda could hear River's mute squawk of protest at the damage the underlying volume of personnel salaries was currently suffering.

"Chief, maybe it'll be better to cut that thing up in the labs, and not where the office can be contaminated." He said dryly. "And maybe on a reliable dissection board that was made to withstand it, too."

Komui seemed to ignore him as he concentrated on his task. Not long after, he held up a thick quarter of potato, as neat as he could possibly cut it with its mushy flesh and diseased skin. "Look." He commanded, in a serious tone that was rarely heard.

"You were right after all, chief." River murmured, looking at the specimen with a look of disgust and horror. "It's most definitely the millennium Earl's doing."

Miranda looked at the potato, the inside of which was not the creamy whiteness it should have been, but rather a deep burnt red, not unlike the shade of blood. Hideous, twisted stars, akin to those that were transmitted by the akuma's diseased bullets, spotted in interior. Black and standing out in a jagged, frighteningly dark contrast to the rest of the potato, the stars were twisted and distorted. Immediately, nausea assailed her at still-fresh memories of death, but she pushed it back down where it settled in her stomach with an uneasiness that would not be dispelled.

"Not good. Not good at all. The akuma have infected it, as you can see." The chief scientist flatly said, speaking for them all as he placed the slice back down carefully. "If Ireland's already on the way to being assimilated by the earl…no doubt there's going to be more akuma outbreaks there."

He split the potato into small portions and sealed them away in bags for further experimentation and analysis in his labs. "Come to think of it, if the akuma have progressed in their evolution like this, they will be able to infect anything after a while." He proposed solemnly. "Going from humans to vegetables is only the first step. What next, livestock? God, then all our resources will be cut off, which is what the earl eventually plans to do, I guess. No better way to make akuma than to cause us suffering and sorrow."

"This is too much." River murmured. "It's bad enough that that completely ridiculous looking earl is tempting people to make dead loved ones into killing machines. But how woulda he go about screwing with food too?"

"And that's exactly what we need to find out."

Miranda could not have said it better herself, and Komui's determined tone reflected her own resolve. The Ireland trip had been sufficient proof that the earl was capable of initiating the akuma making process, even if it meant killing off humans so they could be resurrected as akuma.

"Not that there's anything we're to do, chief. At least at the moment. We're too short on men as it is. And women, too." River hastily added as Rinali poked her head in the door and inquired if anyone wanted tea or coffee.

The mass that mobbed her nearly buried her alive until Komui dug her out, with Miranda's aid. By then, all the coffee and tea had been spilt and was slowly soaking across the carpet. Upon which, everyone began rushing to save the piles of paperwork that lay in large, unorganized piles on the floor. She would never say it out loud for fear of offending anyone, but Miranda had to wonder if some of those people were even as capable as she was- her, someone who had been fired from a record number of one hundred jobs.

Once she had filled Komui in on anything necessary, Miranda wandered her way down to the cafeteria, glad that few people were around. Solitariness was something that was often appreciated by her, as the presence of more than six people made her feel claustrophobic and under constant scrutiny. The entire cafeteria was deserted and devoid of the usual chatter and warmth it usually held, and radiated a sad sense of abandonment. Unfortunately for her, Chief Jerry was nowhere to be seen, and she would never be so rude as to even trespass into the kitchen, as hungry as she was.

"Chief Jerry's filling a secretarial position today."

"…aa-um-hello." Miranda managed to choke out an awkward greeting as she spotted Rinali, whom was sitting alone at a table with a forlorn look upon her pretty face. It was more than enough to say that Miranda had been thoroughly shocked by the other exorcist's presence, especially since she had just seen Rinali a minute ago upstairs in Komui's office serving tea and coffee with a cheery smile. The Rinali sitting in front of her looked morose and lonely. Paranoid, the time-wielder had to again keep herself from activating her innocence, in fear that it was not Rinali but some akuma. Which was a preposterous idea, and Miranda was suddenly afterwards ashamed for ever entertaining the preposterous thought, especially since they were in the safest of all places to be. The thought reassured her. Besides, it was perfectly logical for Rinali to be so quick, since her dark boot allowed her to travel at the speed of light.

"Sit down, it's only the two of us so don't be shy." Rinali said, patting the seat on a bench next to her. "Girl-talk."

"Um…" Miranda lifted an dark eyebrow. "Girl-talk?"

"Well, it's not often we see each other, right? I'm usually with the boys a lot more." Rinali answered softly. "It's quite a pity; we're the only female exorcists around here, since General Cloud Nine is usually out. And Bother Komui never sends me to far-away locations where I can meet other people…he's too worried about me."

"He cares a lot for you." Miranda said hesitatingly. "Sorry, it's not my place to say-" She quickly amended, hoping that she had not crossed upon the untouchable territory that was the Li sibling's relationship.

But Rinali was smiling, putting her back at ease. "It's all right. Everyone says that anyway. Although…I'd wish he's be a little less…"

"..Protective?"

Miranda pretended to take a sudden interest in her fingernails. Seeing as standing there would look very strange, she reluctantly took the proffered seat and resumed worrying at her already stubby nails. It really was a very bad habit, since it wore her nails down and made the tips of her finger raw and bleeding with the consistent picking. But upon seeing Rinali's perfect nails, cut so that it rounded just so, and extending just beyond the tips of her fingers, Miranda decided not to abuse her own any more and meekly sat on her hands lest the urge began again. Confident, sweet, and optimistic, the girl was something that Miranda could barely dream of aspiring to be, being awkward, stiff, and shy herself. Her self-doubt could hardly help things, too, becoming a social liability.

There was a vast gap between them, more than the length of the table that at which they sat at opposite ends; It was perhaps the many differences, both physical and mental, that separated them so. One was shy and sensitive to the world and its injustices, while the other was eternally basking in light. One feeling like an ancient relic although she was merely in her twenties, the other briskly enjoying all the joys of youth. One doubtful of her own abilities, existence, and worth, the other confident that she was loved, but insecure in her hopes and longings. But both were yet, the same woman- directionless, hopeful, and still trying to smile; painfully trying to find her own footing in a society that seemed so foreign it would be hard to break away from the past and immerse. Seeking individuality was hard for her, for them; whether restrained by familial love or struggling to rise from the mire of feeling completely useless, they were chained to the earth by their own faults or obstacles, and were unable to soar free towards their dreams.

All of a sudden, Rinali snapped her head up, eyes wide and alarmed. "Did you hear that?" Visibly anxious, worried, and suspicious, she swept her gaze around the room.

"…" Miranda looked around, swiveling her head around in an attempt to hear. "No, what's wrong?"

Not long after the words had left her mouth, the familiar easplitting sound of akuma machine-gun fire cracked throught the air. And then the floor fell through, dragging them down as well with a loud crash.


	25. Elena and Allen

Disclaimer: D. Gray Man does not belong to me.

Author's Note: Happy holidays, everybody! Sorry for the wait between chapters, holiday season and schoolwork had both left me much busier than I had expected to be. Especially the latter. I didn't intend to write such a depressing chapter, it seems unfit for the holidays, but please r&r as usual.

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25. Elena and Allen

_11:20 AM; Vienna, Austria (St. Stephan's Cathedral)_

Built as early as the 1000s, the cathedral, which was also fondly known to locals as the 'Stephansdom,' had undergone many changes. Its first humble beginnings as a parish church were through time changed and built up to a magnificent gothic structure. It had been rebuilt a total of two or three times, and had seen many differences. Dedicated to the patron saint Stephan, the large figurehead on the main altar of said saint stood silent guard throughout the ages, as every Sunday people came and left for early morning Mass. One of the greatest and instantly recognizable sights on the Viennese horizon, the cathedral towered above and loomed over the city like a protective guardian angel, which it all in actuality was, being a much beloved symbol for the citydwellers, both a religious and parental presence.

Being in such a revered cathedral, there were plenty of artifacts and church relics to see, but little that really interested her. Desperate for any excuse not to look at the dying woman, Allen's eyes scanned around almost frantically to find anything and everything to look at. And much to avail, nothing met her frantic gaze but more death. Although she was sitting on the floor of a most venerable religious structure, the white-haired exorcist felt as if heaven had never been further from her than ever. She had always had the sense that she was out of place as a member of the black clergy. Exorcists were part of the church, but were a completely different breed of priest than the norm. But she couldn't always attribute her detachment like that. Surrounded by religious décor, the grandest of which was a Byzantine-style icon of Mary and Jesus, Allen had the sense that she had fallen from grace, and was unworthy of being in the cathedral. Almost imperceptibly, she shuddered, looking on the icon, desperate for any excuse not to look at the woman. Was that the rumored picture in which the mother was supposed had wept real tears?

"Tell me. What…is your name?"

The exorcist gulped; the question had been inevitable, but she had meant to avoid it as long as she could have. As it was, she had lucked out, and horribly as well. "My real name…is Allen Walker." The words came comfortably to her mouth, a familiar introductory sentence that she had said countless times but had never noticed the significance of. What was in a name? A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet, but a name proved one's identity and sense of self, serving as a label by which one could be regarded by others and oneself. If not for this, one's presentation to the world would not be complete, without some indication of individuality. As of the many years, she had truly thought of herself as Allen, it being the only name she had ever known and answered to.

As of a nervous habit, she stared down at her hands, twisting the fabric of her exorcist's cloak in them and worrying an already present rip in the hem to fray even more. Both Mana and Cross had tried to break her of this unwitting habitual destruction she did to her clothes, the former being tired of buying new clothes and the latter afraid that it would be a threatening weakness when playing cards -a firm indicator of a bad hand. Both men had failed, and as she was horrible at sewing (and was not about to let Rinali mend her things again when she returned to the order) she refrained from picking at it.

They both knew who she was, the woman silently and sadly accepting and Allen still struggling to come to terms with her true identity. However, neither spoke of it, the matter being like delicate ground where neither felt they had the right to intrude upon.

"I see. So that…is how you wish it to be…" The woman's voice was quiet, and her breathing slightly labored. There was so long a pause between what she had just said and what she was about to say that Allen's fingers again crawled a little too close to the tempting ripped hem, ready to begin her incessant picking again. She was not the flightly woman that she had been hours ago, the exorcist noted, but instead she lay dying along with other commoners, their fates all bound together because of them all being victimized by the same enemy- the Earl. There were only two sides, black and white in this 'game' of life and death she and all other exorcists waged with the earl. "…but you are a girl, no?"

"Don't be too sure of that." Allen retorted evasively, before she began regretting her boldness and almost harsh tone, especially since she had used it on such a frail woman who was in critical, even dying condition.

"I think that…I was sure when I first saw you. You were slightly…odd…so as to say. So odd…" She rasped quietly, her eyes never leaving the younger woman's face. The intense, almost hungry, stare unnerved Allen. She could almost feel it tracing along every single detail of her face, and the contours of her chin and high cheekbones where she had applied the most makeup. Foundation, the powder to set it, the defining pencil-strokes, the artfully subtle shades used to add deceiving shadows meant to convey a stronger jaw- all were swept away, cleansed off like the tide rolling over a shore and back, leaving the beach empty. The gaze seemed to penetrate through whatever God-knows-what greasy stuff she had put on her face, and cut through to reveal her own face underneath the layers and layer of deceit. It made the exorcist feel quite naked and unprotected, as if her mask had been removed.

"Odd?" She whispered, wondering just where her disguise had gone wrong.

"No one…no one sees or knows better than a mother can."

Nothing deceives a mother's eyes, the maternal instinct surfacing and making itself manifest in a woman.

Allen shuddered in the knowing tone in the woman's voice, which was so low and breathy that she could barely hear it over the wailing mourning din that had created a permanent ringing in her ears that just refused to go away. Glazed, dull eyes stared up at her, and she found herself suddenly gripping the woman's bloody hand tightly in her gloved one, the white cloth meeting bloodstained flesh, and instantly forming some sort of inseparable bond.

"Eyes like yours…and that…arm… The cross on the back of your hand. There is no mistake after all." The woman said finally.

She was right. But Allen did not entirely believe that, as much as reason supported it, and she did not want to know it. She didn't believe that she could be anyone else other than the idiotic Beansprout who wanted to save the world. Anyone else other than Mana Walker's daughter, and the person who resurrected and killed him.

"I'm sorry I'm not the daughter you think I am-or was, whatever." She had to deny it. She had to, despite the truth. The woman knew it. So did she, but she would never say it aloud. Never call her mother to her face. Allen suddenly blurted out, hanging her head. "I'm just an exorcist. I'm not the only parasitic type- there could be others with a arm like this. I met a man who had his innocence in his arm too."

Her excuses, denials, and offering of alternative possibilities and reasons why she was not whom she was sounded absolutely weak. But Suman Dark had one that differed from hers, and his innocence was in the thumb. No two parasitic types could be exactly the same, their abilities ranging as well as where their innocence was located on their body. Crowley had his teeth acting as his weapons, being mostly capable of vampiric attacks, and Allen herself specialized in changing her arm to a larger and more vicious form.

No matter how she still rebelled against it, she knew, deep down in the most clichéd form of realization, that she was both Elena and Allen Walker, and nothing could ever change the former, despite her wishes to bury the past behind her when Mana had been laid in the ground.

"That boy before, with the long hair…you have not told your friends…"

Allen attempted to turn her snort of contradiction into a cough, but it came out of her throat sounding as if she was about to choke to death instead. She secretly admired his feral grace when fighting, but that was where all amiability ended. Kanda Yuu was more of a bother than a friend. Chaos and much running on her part ensued every time he was in a five foot radius of her presence, since his touch-me-and-die explosive personality conflicted with her own.

"No matter what you change…no matter how much makeup you wear…you will always be the girl underneath the exorcist, am I right?" the hand moved from Allen's, and trailed up weakly to her face, leaving a smear of red that had not been washed off. "So why?"

Why? Why did the sun rise in the sky every day? Why is it impolite to pick your nose in public? Why did clouds float anchorless and free on the horizon? Why was Kanda so _mean_ to her? Why did Rinali look at her so, as if she saw something in her that Allen herself was not sure of? Why, why?! Why do people kill? Why did people leave their loved ones behind when they depart to a better place? Why was it a better place anyway? Was it heaven or hell? Ranging from the simply infantile to the innocently and sorrowfully curious, questions were merely a door to the world.

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Aimless and not wanting to associate with anybody nor help out giving ministrations, the Japanese exorcist wandered on faltering feet through holy halls. Black upon white, a contrast of colors- hideously attractive, and yet so compellingly dangerous. Kanda had not forgotten the startling appearance of the tattoo branded in back of the beansprout's neck. The boy was the night and the morning in a single body, both innocent and dark, a strange combination that Kanda was forever wary of.

How white the hair and tender- he grudgingly admitted it- skin, and how it belied the vindictive expression the cursed exorcist held within his eyes. This juxtaposition of different things only reminded him of how life and death were one, the cherry blossoms falling before everything else, the buds seen in only a single week.

Weakness and fragility were things that simply hurt his eyes; he knew that it was arrogance to overlook the fragility of the world, how everything was connected in ties that could be severed at any moment, how everything was cradled the cocoon that was mother earth. It was the briefness of existence that made everything so much more beautiful, in knowing how it was limited. Restrictions, limits, controls- laws meant to be broken, laws mean to be forced backwards with the resilience of the human spirit, whatever that was. Kanda had never believed in the much abused cliché of 'you-can-do-it-if-you-set-your-mind-to-it.' It was an ugly truth, the statement dripping with concealed deceit meant to pamper someone's ego and mindset. Weaklings that people were. After all, there was one rule never to be broken, the incompetence of the body. No matter what, one was always human.

In an impossibly short amount of time, the white-haired exorcist's parasitic weapon had improved- the sky was the limit in terms of raw, undeveloped potential, and Kanda sensed it. A sense of excitement at a novelty, a challenge in a way since sparring with Rabi could only be so interesting after so many years of training together. He did not envy the weapon leveling up, but rather was intrigued by such a turn of events that brought the boy…closer to Kanda's own level in abilities. Which the Japanese exorcist pompously reassured himself was still very much above the Beansprout's.

Allen, accursed as he was, was still terribly weak under the exorcist's cloak, weak despite his strong weapon abilities. They all were, and seeing the Beansprout get practically ripped apart in battle wrenched his gut and provided a painful reminder of how it could happen to any of them. Rabi. Crowley. Rinali. Miranda. Anyone. Toma and the finders. Or maybe it was the fact that he saw mortality mirrored in the incorrigibly gluttonous boy as he sat there looking defeated, staring back at him with such blatant impudence. It was death's insolent smile he saw on the Beansprout's face, even when he was in such pain, trying to give false cheer. He was nothing but a little boy in an exorcist's cloak two sizes too big, with his heart trapped in the too-small cage of his past.

Little boy. Kanda would deign to call him a boy, even. Ridiculously long lashes framed eyes that seemed to snatch the sky's glory and keep it; features that looked from certain angles to be so subtly soft that any proper man would be ashamed; the body was small and slender under the black uniforms, with a roundness that was gently curving into softness. Practically all girl in its strange suppleness, peculiarly lithe and lacking in any muscle build. And the heart of a girl- too damageable. Kanda had always hated females, hated when his glare made them cry. He hated boys too, although not as much. Rabi had been detrimental enough to his health, and it was only years of acquaintance that bred friendship and tolerance for the redhead's quirks. Simply people in general irked him to no end. And animals. And insects, mosquitoes in particular. To hell with it, he thought mirthlessly, he really did hate everything. Especially one certain white-haired short-statured young man of dubious past.

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Always playing the fool, the court jester, the smiling idiot. She was not an idiot, not by a long mile.

"Why what?" Allen asked blankly, but already knowing what the older female meant. "Oh. You mean me-" She looked around, and made sure that Rabi was sitting across the room and Kanda out of sight, both exorcists at least a good distance away from hearing range. "-being disguised like this?"

It was too late anyhow for her to deny anything, especially since she couldn't help but feel as if she owed an explanation to this strange woman. The almost imperceptible nod, tiny and with fleeting strength, made Allen habitually bite her lower lip and think of a good excuse that would not startle or alarm the woman. Something that would allow her to omit any painful parts of her past that she did not want to reveal to someone she had just met that morning- alleged relations or not.

"Protection. Deception. There are many reasons why I choose to live life as a boy." Allen finally told her. "Mostly for the fact that it would be a lot safer if my enemies didn't know who I was. And that boys won't be as harassed as a lone girl would."

"…Lone?"

"Right. My father died when I was little. It wasn't his fault he left me, but-"

She had said too much. Her mouth automatically clamped together, refusing to speak for fear of having her voice break. Several years had not been enough, and infinity would never be, to ease the pain she always went through whenever she thought of the man who had kindly taken her in off the streets, even though she had a 'disfigured' arm. Crying had managed to provide an outlet for the overwhelming emotion when she recounted her past for Hebraska, but Allen refused to weep in front of a woman who had abandoned her own child since she was deemed a monster and thus not worthy of keeping. She wanted to show this woman, how it truly was like to keep on walking, even after having a rough past like that. Maybe it was spite, but she knew that it was not that but something more, since all anger she had previously felt at the woman had long ago vanished, replaced by sorrow and sympathy.

The exorcist knew that she had a right to be angry, but she was not. She could not even muster up a single seed of hate, not any anger. There was nothing but jaded, weary acceptance of what the woman had done- not so much as who she really was to Allen herself, but her past deeds were for the most part forgivable.

"I'm sure he'd...your father…would have been very proud of you. If he had lived to see you now…"

"Proud. That's rather cold for a joke." Allen mumbled halfheartedly. Even in his eternal sleep, she did not think that Mana Walker would have forgiven her for making him into an akuma, a cursed soul unable to find true peace, forever trapped by the Earl's will and forced to do his evil bidding. "No offense, but I honestly don't think so."

"You…you do your duty. Killing those-"

"…Akuma."

"Yes, akuma…that takes courage, no…?" The woman turned her half-lidded gaze up, and Allen saw the glimmering tears that dripped down and trailed sideways to soak her hair because of her horizontal, lying-down position. They shone with an intense, unspeakable grief, too deep for anything that could have been said to properly express, an emotion in all its bittersweetness and silence.

Allen, alarmed, forced her gently back down on the miserable blood-soaked pallet as she tried to get up. The woman barely had the strength to lift her head, much less the rest of her broken body, which was rendered into little more than a corpse-like figure by the akuma who had shown no mercy nor discrimination for what they killed. "Stop it! Save your strength. Don't talk or move any more, you're just going to hurt yourself more."

"No-there is little time…I know I will not live to see tomorrow." The woman whispered dismally, but without a trace of despair.

Then they fell into silence, one contemplating her end, and the other nervously brooding. One whose life was about to end and the other whose life was crumbling in bits and shards as she desperately tried to piece it back together. As the clock tolled eleven in the morning, the exorcist's stomach growled pathetically from neglect, breaking the almost serene peace between them.

"I never knew what my mother looked like, nor did I remember at all. I never had one, really." Allen said abruptly. "But perhaps you can understand, what it is like to never know what your loved one looks like, living without knowing who they were. It's lonely, and you wonder. Just who they really are." She smiled halfheartedly, and drew her knees up tighter to her chest, since it made her feel more secure and protected, with conserved body heat. "Still, even if I was abandoned, I would have just liked to tell my mother one thing…"

"W-What?"

"I wanted to tell her that I don't blame her. If not for being cast away, I never would have found my strength as an exorcist for the people."

Even at the end, she never had the heart to admit to herself nor the woman whom she really was, at least not aloud. Elena was a part of her as much as the present Allen Walker was, but being torn between the now and the then made her confused and disoriented- as if she had to either be one or the other. Both of them knew it; and thus she was neither to the woman.

And indeed it was all true, Allen mused. If not for being abandoned, Mana Walker would have never adopted her, and she would have never had met her enemy, the earl, never would have met Master Cross, never would have joined the order. She would have been spared much pain, but otherwise she would have never found her true calling in life as an apostle and found who she was fighting for-her new friends and every other person in the world. While there were many positives to her path in life, she could not help but notice that the trials and tribulations outweighed them in far, incarnate in the forms of the nightmares and memories she suffered, disguising as a boy, the Earl & co., Kanda Yuu's sharp tongue, and last but most definitely not least Komui's power drill.

"That's something I've always wanted to tell you-no um, her, for so long. It's been a long time, and I'm not even sure if I'll ever get to see her…" Allen trailed off purposely, anxiously watching the woman out of the corner of her eyes.

The woman was crying. She really was, tears leaking from her closed eyes and falling in trails down her face, making obvious streaks on her face by washing away some of the accumulated blood and grime. Allen cringed in sympathy as the mascara smeared and ran down along with the salty tears; she was surprised at how at such an inappropriate time she was still thinking of makeup. Then again, that was all she had been thinking of for so long- whether she needed to reapply it, whether Komui noticed the smudged toning, or would the accursed rain completely ruin her face? But her heart was dulled, her mind sluggish, and unable to think of a proper response to the crying woman.

It seemed as if all her past injuries and exhaustion had slowly collected due to her neglecting her health and crept up behind her, taking her by surprise. Although by all means it shouldn't have been so unexpected as it was, since she was bound sooner or later to feel the combined effects of depression, sleepless nightmare-full days, lack of food, and injuries from fighting akuma. Her stomach, ribs, head and heart all ached at once, making her body one entire throbbing mass of pain.

"Aagh." She pressed one hand to her stomach, which was the source of much of her misery, both inside and out. However, the way her heart throbbed even more at the way the woman cried, her last reserves of life-strength pouring out from her eyes in a genuinely deep expression of grief. It was too much for the young exorcist to bear, her own feelings welling within her sympathetically. "Please don't cry!" Allen pleaded, dabbing gently at her face with her handkerchief. "Don't, it's going to hurt your throat."

With a cry, she noticed that the wound, which had never really closed, had soaked the bandages through, the startling contrast of crimson on snow-white causing her to gasp and try to stem the flow with one of her many shirts that she promptly ripped off with little concern for whether or not she had undone the collar buttons or not. The buttons, which Rinali had helped her sew on time after time when they came loose, were forcibly torn off and they rolled singularly on the ground, coming to a slow forlorn stop by her feet.

The exorcist was terrified to hear the wheezing and sucking of torn flesh ripping even more as air forced the woman's throat open, her dry sobs sounding pitifully. As she inhaled and exhaled, it made a sick ragged gasping, as if the air denied her oxygen, and God refused her the right to live on. The suction of air going out from the hole in her throat made Allen sick to her stomach- which was thankfully empty or she would have emptied its contents right there.

"I…"

Allen shushed her desperately, her hands full of blood and her buttonless shirt limp and already soaked through. "Why won't it stop flowing?" she muttered, the panic rising swift and uncontrolled in her, welling up and obscuring all rational calm thought that she usually would have mustered up for such a situation.

"…it's…alright. Don't...concern your-" A fit of violent shudders shook the woman, blood spilling out of her purple and swollen mouth, swallowing and suppressing whatever she had been about to say.

Although she had never been trained in the medicine or any such healing occupations, the exorcist was able to recognize the symptoms of shock when she saw them, although applying what she saw described in a heavy medical volume which Cross had used as a doorstop to what she saw in real life was different. Allen's memory was often at fault especially if it involved directions of any kind, but being bored and without reading appropriate to her age group at the time, she had been easily impressionable to the wonders and horrors of the human body mentioned in the book. Rainy days did wonders for the human intellect, as they were opportune times for much reading. Even if she had possessed the intelligence of a single-celled amoeba, the massive flow of blood that refused to let up would have been evidence enough for her to deduct that shock sooner or later would set in from blood loss.

When she was younger Allen had wanted to become a scientist like Mana Walker so she would be able to go on the many business trips he went on with him, and would know to never make the mistake of mixing potassium and water. Before that, and a while before she started dressing as a boy, she went through a phase like every other normal little girl about being a princess from the fairy tales that she was so enamored of, tales that were set in a perfect utopia- which was why they called them 'fairy tales.' But now, she would have thought that if she wasn't going to be an exorcist, she would have chosen the path of being a doctor, which was just as good as a way to maximize being helpful, since she would be able to save lives.

Moreover, she wouldn't have felt so out of place as she did now in the present situation where a person, a mother with a young child, was dying before her eyes. Medicine had its limits, with doctors being only able to save whom they could and whom technology and advances allowed them to, in all the utilizations of knowledge that were possible. The church medics had pronounced the case unable to be saved, and the woman's condition hopeless and most certainly fatal. To see so much blood in front of her and being unable to do anything to stem the flow or to save the life that was slipping through her fingers was unbearable. There was only so much that medicine can help with, and so much a human body could take. And only so much she could possibly do, with her sadly few abilities.

It scared Allen, seeing blood and knowing how fragile a human life could be and how easily broken the human body was, in all its strengths and weaknesses. They, living as people, were individuals. Individually, everyone had their own path in life, but all shared the tragically common and inevitable fate of death, all the ways leading them to the same place, the same end, whether they were princes or paupers. However, what each person did on their different routes of life differed by far, in length, time, and the traveling.

"Don't give up." She practically yelled, unable to control the pitch of her voice, which was nearing a high, distressed squeaking. "You have to live. You have to. How about your son?! Don't leave him behind. Like you did Elena…he's only a child, for Chrissake. Please. Live. For him, at least."

The woman said nothing, as her fleeting strength was diminishing with every second and every labored breath she took. With difficulty, one bloodied hand reached up to paw at the necklace resting on her chest, until the delicate filigree chains broke free of her neck. Trembling, the hand deposited the broken locket in Allen's lap, and then fell limply there, unmoving.

"Your necklace…" Allen whispered, biting her lip and gently stroking her hair. Already, she knew that the woman's body was beyond the threshold of any worldly pain, the senses being fortunately numbed as her soul began to depart on a final journey to where there would be no sorrow.

"…For…you…"

"Me?" The exorcist stared at the locket, feeling a great reluctance to accept it. It was something unexplainable, and she felt that if she took the little trinket, the woman would truly be someone dear to her, almost a sort of committed responsibility, and the locket become a lifelong reminder of one more person whom she could not save.

"Please, no. I can't accept this thing. I told you, I'm not your daughter. She whispered, her denial sounding feeble and halfhearted. "and-"

"No…not…not for Elena…for Allen Walker. For you…daughter…if that is who you want to be…not Elena…"

So that was it. In her mind, the identities of both Allen and Elena were already reconciled. Her voice was already fading away, and Allen could practically feel her slipping away as she held the woman's hand, the life slowly leaving it, so nothing but coldness remained in the physical shell which would be devoid of the soul which had departed to a happier place.

Bowing her head, the exorcist bit her lower lip til it bled, so that she would not let out the heartrending cry that was buried within her, desperate and full of grief. She had wanted to protect everything so badly, and her world was so big, and she only one small person. Her worth as an individual suddenly shrank to very little, just one more mere singular being in her interaction with another person, one who was dying before her. Just another person whose time had run out and was leaving the world with many others at the same moment, all the while many other new lives were being brought in. The thought of the magnitude of the world in its full, awe-striking entirety in which a death was trivial and a small insignificant event struck her as frightening. In all the earth's giant wholeness as a body of life, her small body and large heart seemed incomparable to the ordinariness of how life came and gone, and she truly realized how little her own world was with her small meaningless existence, with her connections to others and her own value as an exorcist.

Being only a small person, with only so big a brain to comprehend so much, she was only moved by only what was in front of her, seeing only what her deep emotions allowed her to see, and feeling only what her selfish heart would let her feel. One death was the entire world to her, and had a deep meaning, with an even deeper sorrow accompanying it. It would be selfish to grieve like that over anyone like that, almost, but even as an exorcist, Allen couldn't help but feel the impact of loss of life, especially since her everyday life was entwined with the fate of others, her occupation being able to change everything.

She didn't believe in people being predestined to die; it was an insult to all she worked for, and her determination. If that was true, there would be no meaning to the struggle to live. It was not chance like cards, a game she was adept at and easily won. There were no cheats in life. After all, as an exorcist, she could possibly help control fate, it lying almost within her grasp, within her invocated hand. And yet, the hourglass shattered on the ground into crystal fragments, horrifyingly lovely and irreparable, she being unable to catch it in time.


	26. Rabi's Symphony: The Violin

_Disclaimer: D. Gray Man isn't mine, nor is "Dulce et Decorum est."_

Author's note: I feel so bad for making everyone wait so long for an update, but school, plot bunnies, and regents had me busy. This chapter is a flashback of Rabi's past, since I need some more background for him. For those whom wanted some KandaAllen, I'm attempting to work on it in another chapter...it's sorta hard since I don't think they're people who would move quickly in a relationship, and I certainly didn't want oocness. Thank you all for having such patience, gah. And wow, I got so many more reviews- yes, I will break up the paragraphs as I have heard from some people that it may be a bit too repetitive and long. So sorry about that, I will try my best. In fact, I did attempt to shorten the paragraphs for this chapter. Hopefully it won't impede my writing style- I was a bit nervous about this chapter since I had lots of fragments and it felt unfamiliar and a bit simple. So let me know what you guys think about the change, ok?

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_Ch 26. Rabi's Symphony: The Violin_

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: _Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori_.

------Wilford Owen, "_Dulce et Decorum est_"

-

-

-

Flashback: Five years ago; Exorcists' Headquarters

_Rabi's POV:_

_Vienna had been a friendly bustling city, swarming with vitality and excellent cuisine, when it wasn't being razed to the ground by akuma that traveled in packs to annihilate innocent people. Even after a month or two, it had remained foreign to him, as he had felt nothing but numbness. The fresh European air that supposedly was excellent for the health had reeked of death, and little else._

_It _was_ good to be _home_, if one could call it that, and far away from the thick tension when he was on the mission, tension that had threatened to choke the very life out of all of the exorcists before the Earl got to them first. But for every mile the redhead was further from Vienna, the more guilty he felt about wanting to leave that hellhole behind, when he was so needed there.  
_

_It had seemed ages since Rabi had felt so warm. Time had seemed to flow in a viscous, viciously slow manner, suffocating him and dampening morale. The Black Order headquarters had a detached cold sterility that was never warmed by the fires running in the common rooms or cafeteria, but it was at the very least a decent shelter. It was a comfortable temperature inside, however, and that was good. The dormitaries and living quarters were nothing to speak of, but the simplicity was something that had never went unappreciated by Rabi. At the moment, he was glad that he was rooming alone. _

_It was sparsely decorated, with bare white walls. Bare with only the necessities of living, since that was all he needed and all he had been used to. Anything more would be considered a luxury, like the privilege of being able to live one more day. _

_There was only a basic set a furniture- the obligatory bed and closet. His room was fairly small, and any little space there was usually was occupied with litter, clothes, and other such items thrown all over the place. Rabi had never minded the chaos his possessions were in, being no neat freak himself. There was no place better than a heap of dirty laundry on the floor to hide questionable things in, and it overall was the only secure area where he was able to keep his secret liquor storage (pawed from the cellars) dry and from Panda's suspicious searching eyes.  
_

_In fact, the disorder was not only useful but was quite pleasant, since it conveyed a cozy sense of peace to him. He had no idea why he associated messiness with hominess, but for some reason it made a safe haven for him where no akuma could gun him down and where he was not an exorcist but rather just simple, plain ol' Rabi. The room was his, the messiness was his, and it was _him_, in a way. Everything was as much a part of him as a limb may be, and he would never exchange for anything in the world, even if for a lavish palace complete with his own harem.  
_

_Unfortunately, when he had returned from his very first mission, the room was clean and everything put neatly into place, so that it actually resembled somewhere decent to sleep in. Not that it hadn't been one before, but it was quite a shock to his senses. _

_The alcohol had vanished and so did all thoughts of drowning all tof his inner turmoilt in a heavy drunken stupor, much to his dismay. The clothes that had been strewn all about had been laundered, patched up, and hung in his closet- the last place where Rabi had expected them to be, considering how it had been a wasteland inside there when he had last left it. But the mound of paraphernalia that had accumulated within had been removed to the dump where it belonged, as he had been informed by the hired maids, and hangers were hung inside. _

_As much as he knew the much-needed cleaning was for sanitary reasons, his clothes were unable to fill the void inside the closet, which seemed only to be a shell of its and his former self, with all the precious junk removed and discarded. The floor was not even the same anymore- the redhead had mistakenly believed that a new rug had been installed, since he hadn't recognized the clean beige color. _

_It was no welcome change, despite the good intentions that had accompanied it. But at the moment, he did not appreciate one bit anything of that like. Good intentions paved the road to hell, and they were easily manipulated into completely different notions, almost blasphemous when compared to their original purpose. It was too clean, and Rabi had felt like the only thing tainted and out of place. _

_Strangely, there was no overwhelming feeling of accomplishment, which one might have expected him to feel after having completed his first task of protecting humanity. There was no celebration for being initiated into the dark order of exorcists, a grim association of adults whose hearts were hardened and blackened by their line of duty. _

_In his unfeeling deadened state, Rabi had mindlessly knocked over a lamp sitting on his table before stumbling over onto his bed, where he crumpled boneless and aching in a raw way. It was as if his skin had been flayed off, leaving everything underneath exposed and vulnerable, his heart open for anything and anyone to crush into many pieces._

_He had screamed silently and soundlessly into his pillow for a good half hour, wanting it all to end, and the adrenaline that was still flowing in his veins to die. Hours, days, a week after the battle it still lingered and tainted and brought the familiar taste of iron seeping into his mouth every time he looked into the mirror. There was little to see anyhow, but he continued to look at his eye and count all his limbs, as if to assure himself that they were still all intact and not cut off and lying on the floor with someone else's head next to them, shot off by an akuma's gun. _

_Rabi could see them, which meant that he was safe, that he was still capable of vision. Four- they were all there, and he sure as hell hoped that they would always be there attached to his torso. It was strange, and almost sad that he would be reduced to such a level of paranoia.  
_

_Yuu-chan hadn't seemed quite so affected, but he was still zombie-like and withdrawn, his face pale beneath its acquired tan and his high cheekbones wan and too prominent. Like a skeleton, come to think of it. Rabi knew that he himself probably looked like a corpse as well, or at the very least a victim of domestic child abuse.  
_

_He had thrown his breakfast up after he had slain the akuma. They had been responsible for the slaughter of innocent music-loving people whom had simply been in the wrong concert hall at the wrong time. And Rabi had killed them just as they had killed the people, as mechanically and instantly as if he were one of Komui's mechanical contraptions that had no other purpose than to fulfill its orders. _

_Which was not good, as Rabi had found out in the hardest way, because there was no control in _your_ hands and thus no limits nor morals to doing things that even the most staunch-hearted person would revile. Which then would lead to the stifling, bone-shattering feeling of deepest regret that would crash upon you afterwards, for which there was no excuse for and no cure that ever worked.  
_

_Bread and sausages and a poached egg, regurgitated all over the place. He had retched and retched, like the miserable wretch that he was, until his stomach was completely empty and there was nothing but a cold hollow feeling within. His red hair had been shaggy and stuck to his face, but he had ignored its scratchy feeling against his skin in favor of wallowing in his self-misery. _

_No longer did he think his dream of saving the world was so grand anymore, the grandiose and pomp that he thought would have accompanied such a job being just tears and blood. Rabi had been scared, as a matter of fact. But it was more of the horrors that he had personally committed rather than the threat to his own life that flung him into shock. _

_It was only by chance, as the Bookman saw fit to educate him at every point, that he was not affiliated with the Earl- whom otherwise _would_ have made a very interesting specimen for investigation while history was being made._

_The thought made him shudder and clench himself into a little ball, as if to ward off all such thoughts. Following the earl would be nothing short of a death sentence for him. Rabi was too free-spirited and too compassionate, too bright, and destined to walk in sunshine rather than the cold light of the moon. The differences between him and a Noah would be too vast to be reconciled, and as a result Rabi knew that he would have been miserable had Bookman chosen to record history on the Earl's side. _

_Saving the world came second to recording history, which was never dead to him; no, it can never be dead since he would always remember it so clearly. Every single little detail seemed burnt into his mind with a cruel iron. _

_Good God, the blood! So crimson. _

_It ran within his body, flowing relentlessly under his skin, and beat loudly in the back of his eyes whenever he felt like crying. It was on him, it was everywhere, and the stench of it had seeped into the very air, rendering breathing nearly impossible and sending waves of nausea to assault his brain. _

_Raining on his hands, soaking into his clothes and past them to bathe his skin in a thick, sticky redness the color of which came off with water but the feel never would since it was the blood of the people he couldn't save and probably never will be able to save because he was unable to protect them as he was supposed to have because it was his duty but nothing more than just his duty as a neutral bookman in training who could never choose sides despite how much his little heart was moved by the suffering of people and no matter if his own pitiful life was in danger from those cursed akuma, the incarnates of peoples' weakness, which could only be set free if he killed them._

_No. Not 'kill,' but rather the word would be 'destroy.' Kill was too raw a word, and much too barbaric for one such as him to use. There would always be something wrong with that word, to him. And it was not 'kill' if his targets were already dead anyway...which was what everyone had told him anyway, if only to drive away the last shreds of pity that he held for his opponents.  
_

Exorcists were able to do anything_; that was, after all, no less expected of them. _

_That was exactly what Rabi himself had believed before his first mission, when he had first tasted the bitter coppery taste of blood flowing from his broken lip, swollen and bleeding from his biting it so as to muffle the shrieks of anguished pain as his damaged-beyond repair eye was removed without anesthesia, with only Kanda's tight grip on his hand. _

_So what on earth was their purpose? They were the saviors, the superhuman beings whom with their freak weapons combated the devils whom threatened to bring all of humanity to the brink of extinction. _

_Of course- there would be nothing more effective than to counter evil with something just as evil in its own. Killing was a sin, even if it were undead that were cut by the sword or blasted into oblivion. _

_Greater good be hanged, they were being taught to remorselessly exterminate monsters that had absolutely no choice in their existence. They were all part of the Earl's evil empire, and killing them was justified because they were part of an entire enemy body._ _An individual was nothing. _

"_Euthanasia, huh?"_

_What a pitiful excuse, fit for the pitiful creations of the earl. _

_It was not until the shock had settled in and the crushing agonizing sensations of phantom pain affected him that he realized what he had lost. Among all of those losses was his naiveté of his own invincibility and self-worth. _

_Frankly to say, it brought his afore-conceived notions and impressions of the dark order, and brought them down to a more stable, realistic level that almost terrified him with its incompetence. They were just human, like everyone else, and hurt like humans, and died like any other human- but yet they were exorcists. _

_There was nothing special to him after all, just as he had always thought. _

_Phantom-pain…strange, sudden, and horrible, of the feeling that something that did not exist was hurting him as well. It ghosted over where his eye had used to be, and sent prickly, twisting sensations to the dead nerves._

_No matter how much he told himself he could do anything he wanted if he set his mind to it, he knew that it was a fallacy cruelly told by parents to their children. Sacrifice was not the same act of heroism the storybooks elevated to an over-glorified status. The Bookman had never encouraged it, being the facts-only realist that he was, but it was always good to have a dream, no matter how fleeting and childlike. _

_It wasn't until he was injured that Rabi truly recognized the vulnerability and fragility of a human life, and how it could be easily snuffed out with little consequence or problem, as if he was little more than junk that was discarded after its value was exploited. _

_The Bookman had sternly pulled him aside the weekend after they had returned to headquarters, and sternly lectured him on the duties of an exorcist, but above all those of a bookman. Without his usual pluck, he had agreed, eyes listless and head bobbing noncommittally, still lost in his misery. _

_But that was the day he stopped believing. _

_In himself, the order, and the world, and whatever his elders, including the bookman, had to say about life. Since they could not see it from a little redhaired, brash and hyperactive boy's view, from a much shorter vantage point. They did not have to try to see the entire world in all its wonders through one eye. But grownups didn't understand how hard it was to be a kid. _

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Euthanasia, huh?

Rabi had asked sadly in a low voice from under the hood that shielded his face, his now single eye widening in pain. Bookman had not known how to answer the apprentice then, in Vienna. Even with his sagacity and his age, the answer had always eluded him. It was seen as merciful killing, to slay akuma. As it was seen that it was always told to young children the _Old Lie_: that sweet and honorable it was to die for one's fatherland.

In all his years, Bookman had never thought the greater good justified, no matter in what context and no matter in any situation. There was little sweetness or honor in death, and such idealistic reasoning would only spawn war and bloodshed that would be otherwise unnecessary. And whatever that actually _was_ justified would then only give rise to heroic idiots whom were trotted around like a horse with a carrot dangling in front of it; The positive adjectives and the metaphors always misled one to misunderstand the facts. There were few so gullible as children.

Naïve, young, and born with a natural curiosity that more often than not got them into trouble, they spoke disaster and headaches. Bookman had known it when he had apprenticed a youngster to become a future bookman, had known that he would have to have patience. In hindsight, he had always wondered if he had made the wrong choice; It was more regret upon his part than anything that he had had to expose a mere babe to so hard a field of work. There was no occupation harder than that of the Bookman, with its sworn indifference and complete disregard for an individual, for the sake of seeing the world and history as a whole.

If the Bookman had had the chance to turn back time, he would have never taken a child in as a disciple. They were too little, too fragile, too innocent, but nothing could go untainted for long. They were God's gift to the world- youth and all its purity. Children. The world simply could not do without their highly annoying, joyful, spontaneous presences that begged for attention, sweets, and spankings to be doled out generously. It was such a pity that such natural vigor had to be disciplined and channeled into a more acceptable form.

Children being children often had a tendency to test their elders' patience, whether wittingly or not, and leaving them unsupervised when they were devoid of anything interesting to do was not a very good choice, so as the Bookman had found out the hard way. Moreover, leaving their young minds unoccupied was even more of a hazard, since they would then be free to concoct ideas of their own, no matter how irrational and daft they might be. After all, there was nothing so tempting as human curiosity was, and experiments acting on that notion were for the most part to be forgiven since youngsters would never listen to anyone anyhow.

Twelve was just one year away from an unlucky number, and that had been exactly how old Rabi had been at the time, just a month or two after he had received his first mission, and it so happened to be raining outside the day he was allowed to have off. Thusly, he had been unable to go into town and as usual indulge his surfacing hormones with sights of women.

However, he lacked any will for what he would have now termed frivolous activities, and even had it not been pouring outside, he would have never set foot outside the order. As dark and cold an environment as the headquarters were, it certainly was much more comforting than the outside world.

Hordes of people were too intense in every single way to him, Rabi having become so sensitive to every sensation, a condition which was only amplified by the new fear that seemed to loom over him at every moment. Crowds were suddenly distasteful to him, he who had thrived before on human company and impressing his extroverted self on everyone he communicated with. The claustrophobic feel of being crushed into the swelling tides of people that thronged the streets would prickle his skin and make the fine hairs on the nape of his neck stand up.

He kept his own face shrouded under a hood, so as to conceal the recent disfiguring damage to his face. It was no battle scar he was proud of, even if it was his very first, but one that he saw fit to hide even from himself.

The constant wariness and the sheer exhaustion of it all was the very worst, and it was as if his one eye had to be open all the time and alert and seeing. The last of his vision could be lost at any moment, ripped out by some akuma, and every single second of using it was a gift to be treasured and made the most of.

But upon the subject of looking at women…Rinali was two years younger, and not that much of an eyeful anyway being simply ten and undeveloped. Kanda had retreated somewhere to train privately with Master Tiedeur, whom had insisted that the he do extra sword training as if the poor boy hadn't already been practicing nonstop for the better part of the day starting before the sun even had risen. It was not for the improvement of skills as it was for keeping busy so as to forget everything in Vienna. Using escapism as a tactic to deal with everything was a typically Kanda-ish method, and Rabi would have followed suit if he weren't bored to death with everything he'd tried.

The lack of his friend's presence meant a lack of entertainment, since Kanda was quite amusing to tease. He had a most interesting spectrum of colors for his face to turn whenever he was irritated. Pink was embarrassment, puce was disgust, blue was when his soba was not yet ready, red was anger blazing hotter than the sun, but when he turned a funny shade of purple, Rabi knew enough to run like the wind. Even better, when Kanda would vein pop, draw mugen, and miss Rabi's head completely with the blade.

Indeed, Yuu-chan needed much work on his katana skills. Perhaps it was the way his grip was too high on the hilt. Or perhaps the way he left the right portion of his neck completely open, giving that he usually was unable to bring the blade up fast enough in time - a blind spot the redhead had gotten accustomed to covering for him when the duo went on missions together.

Likewise, Kanda usually kept closer to Rabi's left, as his recently blinded eye had been causing him a lack of depth perception. There was also the fact -which he had borne silently in front of the other exorcists, but cried about at night- that he would forever view the world through a single eye that made him uneasy and vulnerable on that side. It was hideous, completely marring his face and he no longer had the confidence to go anywhere outside of the order without some sort of mask or hood on. If anything, he would say that the last of his defenses was gone, because confidence had been the only thing he'd really called his own, a shield of brash and defiant bravado that was so thick it neared the precipice of insanity and/or stupidity.

Anyways, with Kanda somewhere else and Rinali organizing her brother's office into something that at least resembled a room, Rabi was completely at a loss to what to do. As he lacked Kanda's high-speed recovery rate, he was not allowed to train, even despite the fact that his injuries had for the most part healed and all bandages removed save for the gauze patch over his eye. He could hardly offer to help Rinali clean Komui's place anyhow since it was a nuclear wasteland and he held his life very dear.

The hordes of paperwork would no doubt suffocate him, if the dust didn't get to him first. But if he did not participate in cleaning, the Bookman would no doubt force him to memorize passages from some textbooks had he caught him loitering uselessly around the headquarters, and Rabi was most definitely not going to waste his day off doing something like that, especially since days off were rare and only once every month or so.

The only other alternative was to hide in some secluded and hopefully interesting corner until it was safe to come out. The headquarters was quite large in its size, and very few actually were familiar with its entire layout. Rabi was no exception, but at the very least he was a little less ignorant than others, having routinely dragged Kanda along on little expeditions over some less-trod paths that led all the way down into the deepest chambers of the tower.

It was a dark, dank day in the Exorcists' headquarters, then, when Rabi had finally decided to find something productive to do.

'Productive' meaning whatever struck his fancy, and as capricious as he was he was likely to find something that would keep him entertained for a bit, before he moved on to something else.

It had all began with his ducking into one of the many storage rooms when the Bookman was looking for him, and it was there that he saw it, shining a lovely soft glow in the dimness of the clouded light that filtered in through the all three layers of the atmosphere, the air pollution, and then finally through the dusty curtains. Which was not a lot of light at all, but the very much depressed Rabi was waxing poetic about his mournful rainy day blues and thought that the softness of the muted shadows that played over its smooth surface had been quite beautiful, especially how the coat of dust particles covering it seemed to deflect the light just so. The way that there were tawny hues mixed into its general color was enough to captivate him, how the many grainy swirls of many shades of dark russet red and warm browns mingled together.

Even more fascinating was its entire presentation; draped in a royally ripped purple velvet cloth, it lay within its open battered- no, venerably aged- jet-black case, emitting an aura of mystery and of the long-ago past. Whatever mysteries this precious object held, Rabi wanted to find them all and understand them all. It would not lessen how he looked at him, but increase his appreciation.

It was pure love at first sight, and Rabi picked up the broken violin from its case and cuddled it close, accidentally in the process snapping the remnants of the bridge clean off. The bow was rebellious, the horsehair loose, breaking, and sticking every other place except where it was supposed to be, but the exorcist was undaunted. Apparently stubbornness had been passed down along with red hair in his family.

The pitiable condition of the abused instrument would have made a concert master weep in pure sorrow at the amount of sacrilege done to such a fine masterpiece of art and music combined.

The A string was not attached at all to its peg, the E broken, and the G and D inexistent. The exquisitely carved bridge had been missing, him having knocked it off accidentally, and the fingerboard was strangely depressed and cracked as if someone had sat on it. Moreover, he gently shook the violin up and down and heard something inside rattle and tumble within the wooden framework. He peered within the f-holes, and spotted something that resembled a stick rolling around in the empty body of the violin.

It appeared to be certainly in need of some fixing, if not a complete overhaul, but the redhead was adamant in restoring it to its former glory. But needless to say, he was completely unaware of the fact that it would be simply much cheaper to replace the violin than rather having it repaired.

Perhaps the redhead was completely and truly unaware of its ugliness; Its paint still retained some of its luster, but time had stained it, chipped it, and rubbed it off. But like a magnetic force, it drew him in, captivated him, and made him its own- someone who was like it, being imperfect, marred, and hiding beneath a ragged covering. Perhaps it was its flaws which had attracted him so, the same sense of being resigned to the same fate leading him to it.

It was a damaged ware, very much like himself in a sad way. He too had served his use, and Rabi right there and then had decided never to be discarded in some dank corner like the violin, no matter how battered and scratched his physical body might have been. The junked instrument he saw as an instrument few knew the true value of; it was a beautifully, strangely, sadly solitary gift lying in wait for its worth to be redeemed.

It was a violin, and a treasure to the world. It had such a magnificent purpose- even if it was just to provide pleasure to a weary soul. Nothing needed to be glorified; perhaps it was better that way after all. A singular item, of such little importance, but yet able to provide an entire world of possibilities in which a few minutes could be transformed by the sweet plaintive melodies of music. A few minutes were forever, and he saw infinity in them.

It would be then no longer just a violin, but would have done its service as Rabi himself would have done as an exorcist.

If it was only for one single day that he could evade fate, no, not even a day, one hour, one minute!- He would cherish it. He would always remember Life's small petty joys, all working in wonderful and mysterious ways that one would never comprehend until one lost it all in a singular moment that could never be reclaimed. Every single breath becoming no less than the universe in all its importance.

The first thing Rabi did now that he had found an Ultimate Goal was to consult the library, which he felt to be an invaluable resource because of the hosts of books that were at his disposal. In addition, the omniescent Bookman frequently haunted the history section, which was quite a fitting place for him to be considering that he was an omniescent ancient relic of a man, who was nearly as old and contained as much knowledge as some of the books in the library, many of which were actual relics in themselves. In all, the library was a venerable place of age and sagacity, and a most convenient place to loiter.

"…violins? You want to learn about violins? You're a Bookman, not some instrument maker or musician."

The Bookman had been more than puzzled at his sudden interest in musical instruments, but thankfully had not questioned him any further. It was most likely Rabi's fierce determined set-jawed look that had persuaded him to avoid the topic, but the redhead had not been so spirited for weeks now since he made his first kills, and thus the well-meaning older exorcist had decided to let the matter slide until he found out about whatever mischief the youngster was working on.

Armed with piles and piles of books and putting the violin carefully on another table, Rabi swiftly attacked all the reading material with a voracious appetite that he had not had since his mission to Vienna, before which he had been researching stinkbombs with the help of a very much disgruntled Kanda who had wanted no part in the plot and the resulting punishment.

His head had been mutinous and throbbing with information overload, but at the very least Rabi had been able to understand the many diagrams and vexingly long paragraphs. Whatever terminology he did not understand was confirmed by a dictionary and/or Bookman, although the latter was less interested in helping him than in forcing him to memorize yet another tome of history.

Being a thirteen year old with quite above average intelligence, Rabi was able to generally acquire a rough idea of what a real working violin looked like, and the violin he found certainly resembled none of that, much to his chagrin. In fact, it had deviated so much from what he had seen in the reference books and so much more complex than he had originally believed it to be that Rabi was having second doubts whether or not it was really a violin and not some oddly cut hollow box attached to a splintering thin strip of wood over which rusted metal strings were stretched.

However, seeing its pitiful state, he was more than resolved to bring it back to its former glory, and restore its sound as he wanted to do his eye- something that was impossible.

"Rinali, do you know anything about violins?"

The girl, startled by his question over lunch, had choked on her potato salad as she eyed the pitiful instrument nervously. "No, nothing really. In China we have a string instrument we call the erhu but it's more like a mini cello than anything."

"I see." Rabi had filled Kanda's vacant seat with more books on the construction of violins, and he distractedly flipped a few pages on the book he was reading before snapping it shut.

"But it's a...very nice violin, Rabi." Rinali said quietly, noting his disappointed tone with her usual capacity for judging emotion. "I'm sure it will play nicely if it is fixed up. Or you can always get a new one-"

"I don't want a new one."

"But, Rabi- it looks as if it's going to be really hard. I mean, look at it." Rinali said practically. "It's almost impossible and I don't think you have the expertise-"

"Goddamn it all to hell, it's NOT!! And I don't care if I don't have the expertise, but I'm going to make the impossible possible! "

Rabi did not notice how loud he had raised his voice, so vehement were his words. She had confirmed what he had always known. Strangely, even after quite a period of their having been friends, it hurt him, coming straight from her small pink lips. In the same perplexing way, Rabi knew that on the other hand, had it been say, Yuu-chan, or even the Bookman, he would just snicker it off and given a clever retort.

One easily got used to Kanda's cutting remarks, even if they were flung in full fury, because it was the typical attitude and callousness one would expect from the arrogant exorcist, who was considered a social pariah or at the very least deviant by even the most hardhearted of the exorcists.

The Bookman was no peer of Rabi's, but one whom he looked up to. Such a level of competence seemed light-years away from his current abilities, and the Bookman was a goal, but little more than that. A mentor, almost a parent whose approval he would seek, but never in the way he wanted Rinali to see him as. He himself was not sure of what kind of attention he himself wished her to give him, and could see little in how she looked at him. But still, the last thing Rabi had wanted was vocal acknowledgement of the limits of what he had believed to be poor abilities, and especially from her of all people. He would have cared less about the opinions of most people, since he tended to take life in stride as it was, with all its pitfalls.

But then again, Rinali had established herself as not one of the 'most people' the day they had first met. But the Rinali now that he was friends with- still friends with, hopefully- was no suicidal straitjacketed girl whom had to be kept under constant surveillance when not prodded to kill akuma.

A soft whimper broke into his thoughts, ripping him back to the present to stareat his friend, and it was then that Rabi realised that it was the first time that he had sworn at her. The redhead had snapped at her viciously, much more harshly than intended and he immediately regretted using that tone when the female exorcist's eyes widened and grew suspiciously moist, although she shed no tears. It immediately made him feel lower than the street sewage in the dirtiest corners of any given ghetto.

Rabi still meant respect for the fairer sex, even after so much fondness as he might have had for certain female body parts. There were very few codes that he lived by other than that of his own somewhat eccentric tendencies and morals, but women were sacred in his book. Nowadays, people called it chauvinism, but it was only misunderstood chilvalry, if there was any word for it. They did not simply look good to him, but he had always felt an unexpressed awe of them. He had attributed it to maternal influence or feminine charm. Mysterious, capricious, annoyingly inquisitive, they were strange creatures so much different from him and somehow brought out the softer side of him that he never knew existed- not that he was implying that they were weak or anything, but he appreciated how their presences could just change the world so weirdly, spontaneously, and beautifully. And in that light, hurting a girl, not to mention one of his best friends, was pretty much a crime.

"Wait, Rinali, I honestly didn't-"

But there was no explanation that he made, it lingering unsaid at the tip of his tongue, as his mouth was so dry that he was unable to express anything but a quiet meaningless squawk. Quietly she left him alone at the table, and Rabi banged his head against the heavy tome llying unread in front of him, completely astounded and disgusted at his stupidity.

Pretty stars, pretty dark eyes with a pretty oriental tilt to them. Pretty, he thought in his half concussed state- the open book was big, bulky, and had felt like more like a brick than papers.

Rinali was pretty, too pretty to have her face marred by such tears. Just imagining the tears stream unchecked down her face caused guilt immediately to well up within him, despite his bad mood, and wish to retract his hurtful words. As if his day could have gotten any worse, Komui had immediately chewed him out in a fury, despite his little sister's many protests, which had only made the exorcist very ill at ease. Rabi soon found himself on cleaning duty in the kitchen, Chief Jerry being more than delighted to put him to work washing the several million or so greasy dirty plates that had been accumulating steadily in the just as filthy sink.

The redhead scraped food distractedly off the silverware as he read the book propped in front of him on the water knobs, so all in all he was being productive. Well, as productive as one could be when multitasking. Rabi had never been very good at it anyhow, and was glad that Jerry did not assign him to some more difficult task.

The kitchen was not the most ideal place for him to work, as his nearly nonexistent cooking skills consisted of being able to burn water and making a very spicy curry that was so hot that it had been pronounced not fit to eat by Kanda- who had decided to never again taste his redhaired friend's cooking. Rabi's method of cooking was basically to cover up the bad taste with as many additives and flavors as possible, which resulted in his producing inedible fare that overwhelmed the taste buds.

Much to the exorcist's delight, Jerry roughly booted the exorcist out on his behind when it was finally realized that Rabi had been cleaning the same plate for over an hour, when engrossed in a particularly difficult passage to understand. Needless to say, he was not invited back and he assumed that his presence was no longer needed.

The chime that rang in the hour struck two as he walked the corriders, the dual tolling strikes startling him and sending his hand closing tightly around the handle of nyoibo. It was the time at which Rabi would usually gather in his littel library clique with Kanda and Rinali, but he froze in his steps. Long after the alert had stopped ringing, it still vibrated against his eardrums and correspondingly he heard his own internal screaming of fright. He could already feel the blood rushing in his body escalate to an insane raging cadence of fear and anticipation, and it took a minute for him to realize that no, he was not still in Vienna, and no, he was not being attacked, and that he honestly should shrink his mallet back to the original size before he accidentally destroyed part of the headquarters.

But what agitated him and quickened his breathing into shallow rapid pants of apprehension was the fact that the numerous finders and other order personnel that were previously walking in steady packs along the hallway had all paused in their movement and were currently staring at him.

Burning stares, passing judgment and all accusing. His mouth was parched and his tongue was numb, but Rabi managed to still gather enough dignity to smile sheepishly as he retracted nyoibo to its normal toothpick-sized form.

"Sorry, sorry! Don't let me keep you guys from your business." He said, his voice overly cheerful. He cringed inwardly, for to his own ears it sounded like a mocking parody of his usual buoyancy and completely superficial.

From under his hood, he watched them as they filed past him to continue on their way. The various finders whom had heard news of the massacre at Vienna quietly were dropping little compliments and the obligatory congratulations that usually was given to boys whom had become men. The rite into adulthood was accomplished nearly overnight for an exorcist, and Rabi knew that he would never again be the same child he was before his mallet lashed out in righteous fury and smashed through the chain binding a corrupt soul to its akuma shell of decay.

What they called him was everything he was not, and he did not want to be the idealised figure of the child-soldier, something that was irresistible as a paragon of hope- the youth were the responsible adults for the future, but he certainly did not wish the responsibility to be placed upon him so early. Rabi would never be able to bear it, the burden placed upon his still slim and narrow shoulders. The voices grew louder into a deafening crescendo of garbled speech he would be unable to understand even if he wanted to, tremulously jarring his entire universe into an oblivion of noise and pain.

He could only stand there, shaking in his shoes, and under his hood he shut his eye, as if not seeing would dispell all the mental images that were rapidly flashing across his mind in rapid, chaotic streams of memories. However, it would be only bad etiquette if he covered his ears too as he so wanted to do, and he could only thrust his hands into his wide cloak sleeves to resist the urge. Not even having Mr. Rock with its reassuring weight heavy and loose in his pocket was any comfort, as he reached down and squeezed the familiar hard lump of gravel.

Mr. Rock was, even at the very end, only an inanimate object to which he had affixed an all-too-real personality that was nothing but the byproduct of an overactive imagination and a horrible loneliness. Getting emotionally attached to a rock, frankly speaking, was nothing short of stupid. Personification could only go far, as did talking relentlessly to oneself…which was simply a step away from the loony bin…

…But that was where he was eventually heading anyway, wasn't it?


	27. Seek

Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray Man.

A/N: Here's another update...I had written up a Valentine's day special (complete with Timcanpi pov) like half a month ago, but I can't find it because I have no idea where I put it and how I have labeled it. But it should be up sooner or later, even though it's waay too late...I reformatted my computer (which was such a pain) yesterday after saving what files I could, so I'll just have to riffle through them. I only hope I haven't accidentally failed to recover it. -- Anyway...I'm a bit nervous about this chapter since an oc plays a prominent part. Let me know what you guys think, ok?

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27. Seek

Autumn had broken on the land, sweeping in with all the frenzied grace of Mother Nature amidst storms of wildly dancing leaves; As ethereal and untamed as the fairy dances of occult tales that were all the rage among ladies of high-born society.

Despite the current trend, which demanded that one be interested in progress and scientific advances, it went beyond reason that anything like the otherworldly might ever exist. It was not Logic at all, and was supported by little other than popular appeal.

Of course, as Kanda strode in the street, enjoying the leisurely Viennese afternoon was the last thing on his mind. The akuma, or what the people would call 'otherwordly' things that wouldn't possibly and couldn't exist, had infiltrated the city once more, and since he had helped purged it in previous years, the responsibility still weighted upon him.

Anything to get out of the stifling chapel of dying people- Kanda had found a reason to in the purpose of contacting Komui. Anything to keep his mind busy would be good at the moment as well.

But that was not to be, since he was half-buried in an unappealing pile of his own rebellious thoughts, and the other half of his attention was spent scanning the vicinity for any potential threats that might suddenly morph into huge mechanical creatures with guns protruding from their lifeless bulbous bodies.

He was in an extremely foul mood. Just for the record, he had never ever apologized to anyone, nor felt any intense pangs of guilt to ever do so. Contrary to his reputation as an insensitive person, he _did_ know when he was being callous, and usually he liked it that way. After all, his insults were meant to hurt badly.

One whom did not execute his power can never be respected in the very least, and Kanda was fully aware of the face that his cold manner was one of his greatest assets in that it allowed him many more advantages and much more leeway in interacting with other people.

Any situation would be easy to grasp if one did not allow himself to be too attached to other human beings, because then one would be able to on the slightest changing of the winds renounce everything for self-interest. But most of all, overlooking what he would consider questionable behavior of other people would be unforgivable.

He would have never admitted it to anyone- Rabi least of all- but lately he had been feeling that such a defense mechanism was counterproductive.

Alienating his allies was all very well since he wasn't very fond of them nor did he need them, mugen being more than sufficient. However, creating tension between himself and the Beansprout was completely unintentional; He certainly could have done without knowing that the addlepated ninny had created an akuma himself.

Now that he was enlightened upon that aspect, Kanda was torn between mercifully slaughtering Allen (and stringing his carcass up on the highest bell tower in the Stephansdom) or remaining in his usual disapproving silence. Either way, since the current mission required some social skills, it was impossible for Kanda to take care of it himself, and it would impede the mission.

The exorcist couldn't even bear to look at his younger peer.

And of course, going out of his way for anyone else was unheard of. Kanda wasn't known to be a nice man; had fate worked out differently, perhaps the amount of natural human empathy wouldn't have been so underdeveloped in him.

Combative, aloof, morose- those were the words that one would normally use to describe him. If ice had not been distilled in his soul, and if such high expectations had not been pressed upon him from childhood, he never would have become such a cold exorcist.

But he was Kanda Yuu after all, and thus he was not given to such unnecessary shows of kindness. In fact, anything out of the usual was, in a word, strange for him; redundancy and routine was his life, his kata.

So, why on earth did he feel sympathy, of all things?

Sympathy, along with other such soft, cuddly emotions that he was not accustomed to. Such as sorrow and helplessness. They brought to mind broken soft cuddly objects, like some abandoned little pet or a stuffed animal worn with age.

He chalked it all up to being most likely a reflex reaction to being around the beansprout too much. The kid was easily emotional, with a fragility that looked as if the slightest wind could rip it apart so easily and beautifully. And he was charismatic enough to be accepted so quickly despite his curse among the finders, he could acknowledge it that much, even if he was not willing to admit it even at gunpoint.

Kanda even found himself regarding Allen in better lights, and the fact that the brat's parasitic weapon was getting stronger and stronger also helped. Kanda, frankly speaking, had always held strength as a top quality, and treasured it above all else. The prospect of a sparring match against him seemed strangely attractive.

However, the prospects of _ever_ having that match seemed, at the moment, hanging in jeopardy since the sobbing beansprout had looked as if he was ready to pull one of his usual idiotic acts and commit suicide. Being the opportunistic person that he was, Kanda had decided that it was in his own best interests as well as those of the Black Order that he find some way to…resolve the situation, to carefully put it. It sounded better than 'cheer the brat up,' after all.

His pride wouldn't have settled for it being put any other way. And he never would have forgiven himself anyway if he even as much as admitted any sentimental feelings of comaderie.

…Whatever that meant. English was just as bad as math to him, if not worse, as he was not a native speaker- though one would never know it if he actually decided to speak and not grunt monosyllabically as he usually did. Truly, the stereotype of smart Asian kids did not apply to him at all.

Allen was not the only one he was thinking of. Moreover, as he mused, the same went for Rabi. The redhead looked to be at a low that Kanda had not witnessed since the last time they had been in Vienna. Dulled, jaded, and like an empty husk of his former self- screaming into his pillow- talking incessantly to Mr. Rock- little Rabi had been like that, and Kanda didn't want the now big Rabi to be the same.

The time brought shadows to his face, and reminded him painfully of the fact the order simply could not afford to lose any more of the exorcists as it was- innocence itself was scarce enough, and finding compatible apostles more of a totally random guess-and-check process than anything else. It was not that he cared for his two colleagues; it was merely him being his usual logical self. Although emotions felt on his part certainly deviated from his definition of logic.

With this in mind, he continued his way out of the cathedral, out the great Giants' doors and into sunlight once more. The cathedral behind him was large and stood in dark contrast against the sky; its stones were once white, but years of accumulating soot had blackened it.

Uncomfortable, Kanda had not been able to stand the stifling atmosphere within the chapel anymore, and anyhow there was a horrid lack of service inside for his dysfunctional golem.

"Shit!" He cursed as said communication device wriggled inside his pocket, apparently hyper.

It was too slow, but as it was it was his only communication device with hq and thus he was not allowed to demolish it. In his opinion, the self-sentient and defiant Timcanpi had been a negative influence upon the other golems, as unconventional and odd as its master Cross Marian had been among exorcists. Relationships were not encouraged between mere tools and their owners, as the former were to be discarded at any given moment for anything better after it had served its use.

Like finders, golems were not entitled to opinions, and even more so because they were very plentiful and were in addition merely bits of machinery strung together to suit the sole purpose of communication. Thusly, it had irked Kanda whenever he spotted the Beansprout stroking Timcanpi, and carrying on as if the little yellow device was more of a friend than anything else.

For heaven's sake, the boy got attached to anything and everything, alive or not. Of course, Kanda's opinion was slightly biased in that aspect because he hated golems. Absolutely hated them, because he hated updating Komui.

Missing a report or two to Komui could surely be fine, but Kanda simply needed some sort of rational explanation for a convenient disappearance from the cathedral until everything settled down. Whether or not it was necessary was not a point to be contested, because if he heard just one more person screaming for their dead mommy he would blow a gasket and kill just about everyone within a two-mile radius with mugen ichigen.

He was not a person who liked being crowded, and giving attention to traumatized civilian victims of the akuma attack would be an unpleasant task. Better leave it to Rabi and Allen, whom were at the very least able to emphasize with others more than he could ever.

He himself seemed to have some defense mechanism built into him that kept people at a good distance away. It was not that the exorcist minded such a function, especially since isolation allowed him to be separated from the hoi polloi that were just so weak.

However, breaking the news of the mass killings to Komui would be just as tedious a job. Especially since Kanda would have to venture outside into the town to make a call. Moreover, his blasted golem was cheap junk and could barely connect. Komui would also verbally rip the earl to pieces, and he would then have to put up with two hours of rants and ten minutes of orders. Even worse…

_He was being stalked_.

Had it been any other place and time, and that there weren't so many people around, he would have drawn mugen and confronted the person. Innocent people were the last thing on his mind, and it was more out of a want to keep a low profile than to avoid killing bystanders that Kanda restrained his instinct to attack.

The familiar feeling of the fine hairs on the nape of his neck standing rigidly in unease had already alerted him to that, ever since he had left the Stephansdom. However, this unwanted presence was fairly harmless, since Kanda could not detect any dark matter nor hostility.

_Or was it just a coincidence?_

Also, he had sensed that he was being followed while within the cathedral, which meant that his mysterious pursuer was not an akuma, since there had been anti-dark matter barriers erected. In fact, the person following him was rather clumsy, even, and he had to wonder about such a blatant lack of secrecy.

_Instinct told him not._

Inwardly, he hoped that it was not some sort of besotted idiot _girl_- he had had enough of those imbeciles dog his every step whenever he went on excursions outside the black order headquarters to restock his cabinet with soap.

In the name of all things holy, women frustrated him, and not just because they were _female_! With their frequent hormone-caused bouts of moodiness, 'woman's intuition,' affinity for shopping bargains, they were more trouble than they were worth. Never mind the fact that they were eyecandy for people like Rabi, whose type was busty and blonde. Rinali was the only one he could possibly tolerate, because she had her eyes on Allen and Allen alone.

It was very bad taste in men in Kanda's opinion, but the Beansprout was attractive if one preferred naïve girly pretty boys whom also happened to have a dark past and a curse, and was orphaned at a very young age with special powers that made him a social reject.

Lo and behold-- the mysterious angsty bishounen.

Minus dark sullen looks and a bad-boy attitude. And add an almost childlike mentality when it came to reality. Not a winning combination, but Rinali certainly liked it well enough.

Besides, even if Allen weren't the object of her attentions, Kanda felt starting any other relationship between him and Rinali would no doubt feel a bit incestuous, since so many years of acquaintance made them as close as possible with his aloofness and her former wariness of church personnel other than her brother.

It also made it hard for them to think of any other possibility other than the sorta-friendship they had. Moreover, if Allen was the type of guy Rinali liked, he himself would be terrified if Rinali had liked him too, since that would lump him in the same group…oh dear God. The horror.

The exorcist was very much aware that he himself possessed some sort of enticing quality in his appearance, which had never failed to make him uncomfortable when heads turned to observe him and prying eyes would give him the usual once-over. That was, until he erected his trademark barrier, a glare that allowed him breathing space of a six-foot radius.

All of this…attention had felt like being in his father's dojo again, but only not as a specimen of good looks but as a complete dunce at swordfighting. With all eyes on him only, the unwanted attention putting him in a negative spotlight, excluding him from everyone else.

Even now, Kanda had thought that it was a silly concern of his, never being able to 'fit in,' as the common masses tended to call it. But Rabi, his best friend- if he could grudgingly call the redhead that- seemed to blend into everything even while prominently being as loud and obnoxious and even the accursed Beansprout hair looked perfectly at home with his annoyingly clashing white hair.

He stopped in his steps, quickly spun around, his ponytail lashing his face. It stung, and the pain was not worth it at all: for he saw nobody conspicuous. A stray cat that was little more than a purring ball of grime and fur; a ragged street urchin; a little girl with a red hat who was selling flowers on the sidewalk; a young man wearing black-rimmed glasses.

Everything was completely ordinary. But then again, akuma looked like ordinary people when still clad in their disguises, and everything was ordinary until machine-gun fire took down everyone. Afterwards, blood and death would be ordinary, because it would be everywhere and thus not uncommon.

He eyed the passing pedestrians with a more than suspicious glare, and concluded that his stalker was most likely someone/something that he had overlooked. Kanda, after much internal debate, retraced his steps. There was no point in calling Komui when there was a possibility of the conversation being overheard by eavesdroppers that might be able to jack the golem frequency.

There was very little really for Komui to tell him, and what Kanda had to say would probably already be known by the Earl's henchmen, so such secrecy was a bit paranoid. He gave the street a cursory once-over yet again, and, spotting a gaggle of teenaged female menaces, was forced to beat a hasty retreat into a deserted alley before he was targeted.

The dead end made it so that the exorcist was cornered, and such a claustrophobic sense of being trapped there made him push his thumb against the tsuba and ease mugen's blade out of its sheath an inch, so that it would be quicker to draw if he ever needed to defend himself immediately.

Speed was essential to one like him, and he had acquired it over years of using a sloppy sword style that allowed no room for slip-ups nor lethargy. When he was a child he preferred to use brute force that easily controlled and overpowered an opponent, but lacked technique whatsoever in using a sword.

Thusly, memorization of moves/katas and instinctively applying them in fights was hard, since he certainly wasn't good at it in the first place. His father had said that it was sloppy and disgraceful, his soft-hearted master had said that it 'needed improvement' (in other words, it plainly sucked), and even a twelve-year-old_ Rabi_ who knew nothing about swords had said that Kanda had the grace of an elephant.

Yep, bookman-apprentice Rabi.

Whom couldn't brake on his hammer when jumping on it.

And whom was forced to practice on the roof so that he would not be able to break any more ceilings when losing control of nyoibo's size.

Elephant, indeed!

Pushing all thoughts of the past unceremoniously to the back of his mind, the exorcist heard soft, shuffling footsteps near the alley. Most likely the stalker, since if it were a bunch of girls he would have detected from far away the sounds of high squeals of laughter and asinine chatter. The quiet pitter patter stopped right at around the corner, and Kanda drew mugen out another good inch.

The stalker popped his head around the corner, casting a shadow on the walls. Kanda caught a flash of flaxen gold right before the figure barreled straight into him, tackling him to the ground in a way that was most definitely did not pose a dangerous threat to his person in the slightest. Maybe a threat to his sanity, though, considering how the exorcist hated physical contact of any sort.

Being hugged around the waist by a child whom was supposed to be safe in the St. Stephan's church a good distance away was certainly startling.

"Shit." Kanda swore again, completely unconcerned if he corrupted Edmund's young innocent ears. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I fowolled you!" The recently-orphaned boy seemed to have no qualms at all about leaving the chapel and following his target through half the city. Since he was dressed to kill, being a child from what was presumably a high-status family, Kanda wondered why he hadn't been mugged or at the very least accosted.

With a little velvet suit like that- he didn't see the logic in high fashion for children whom would only dirty the clothes- no doubt Edmund would be marked as an easy target. The incident on the train came to mind, quite fittingly.

"…" At a loss for words, he thrust mugen irritably back into the scabbard, and gave a loud, long-suffering sigh. At the very least he could be assured that the child was no akuma, since Allen had proved useful for once and had already weeded the akuma out from the normal people with his eye.

Edmund's chubby little face was dirty, the only clean places being a coin-sized spot on his left cheek and wherever tears had left their mark. Kanda scowled, bending down and none-too-gently wiping the child's face clean with the sleeve of his cloak. The cloak with the cross emblem was not a pillow for the weak, as he had declared what now seemed like eons ago, but of all ridiculous things to do, here he was wiping the _snot_ off a little kid's face with it.

"Get lost-" In mid-sentence he decided that he better not encourage the youngster and changed it to, "-Go back to the church. I'll be along later, I have things to do."

He snapped harshly with his usual brusqueness, withdrawing and standing up, once again a cold figure of duty.

"Don' wanna."

"Don't blame me then if you get lost." The exorcist said blandly, walking past him to enter the street.

"I won't, won't, won't!" Each word was punctuated with a little scream that eventually increased in volume and vehemence, and at the very last word, a stamp.

"…"

"You have it." Lisped the now whining voice, now on borderline shrieking and edging towards a tantrum. "I won get wost."

"I have _what_?" Good grief, he was becoming so much better at deciphering the dialect of mere babes. That said a lot, really. "And why wouldn't you get lost."

"'Cause you have it and I can see it."

"Go away, I have no use for babbling little kids." Kanda all but snarled, getting extremely annoyed. See what?- The boy's dogged persistence was like a slap to the face, a blatant insult that was so familiar and prickled him and stabbed him in the heart at the same time.

Gigantic blue eyes so much like _his_, and the same troublesome personality that further deepened the chasm between them, the exact duplicate reckless confidence, and it was so much like _him_ that Kanda wanted to growl back some petty insult in response.

And he almost automatically did, before catching himself in time, reminding himself that the boy standing in front of him was not the accursed person that he had in mind. Although now, even standing in the shadows, the physical resemblance was even stronger than what he had thought before.

Backed up by the same undesirable character traits that he had found so unappealing, Edmund looked little more to him than a faded carbon copy of what he presumed to be a much younger and less-burdened Beansprout. What Allen might have been, could have been, had he not so horribly made mistakes in his childhood.

Beansprout Jr., he thought wryly.

One was already enough as it was.

"I _can_ feel it. From far away, I can find it. You have it, so I can follow you. And those two haf it too. Wed and wite."

"Red and white…Rabi and Allen?" Kanda asked, stopping dead in his tracks.

"I can see it." The boy continued insisting, missing the point completely. He leaned forward, clumsily, and laid his small chubby hands upon mugen's sheath. Kanda forced himself not to jerk away at the touch. "It's here."

"Explain." The exorcist demanded, his voice hard.

"I can see it in your sword. Wabi has it in his hamma." The boy proceeded to do so in simplistic terms that did nothing to alleviate his confusion in the slightest. "Allen has it in the big left arm that smashes bad guys. But when the arm's not big I can't see it so well. "

"When it's not big…" Kanda mused, intrigued. "So you're saying that you can recognize the weapons we carry."

"Re-cug-nice?"

"Never you mind that. I mean that can you find me because you can sense my sword, because you see something in it?"

"…yes." The child shuffled his feet, surprisingly meek. He gave the older male a wide-eyed, tentative stare from eyes too large for his small face. "But not everyone else's sword. I can't sense my papa's…" The big eyes watered suspiciously, and began filling at an alarming rate that had the exorcist very much disturbed and nervous. "…my papa…"

"Shh. Worry about your papa later. Don't cry." He said gruffly but not callously, masking the otherwise gentle words under a brusque tone. "…What does this…thing… that you see, look like?"

"Umm…" Edmund held up his fingers, locking them into a square shape, glancing at Kanda for approval. "Like…this…a box. This big."

"A box, you say? What did the box look like?" Kanda pressed on.

"A _box_ box," The youngster said, obviously getting more frustrated by the moment. "It had….weird-looking squiggles on it…"

"Was it a golden cube with writing on it?"

"Mmm-hm! Did oniisan ever see it before? Edmund said eagerly, clinging to the front of his cloak.

Of course he had, although not very often in its raw form.

There was no mistake about it, the Japanese exorcist realized, his heart nearly stopping with the shock. What had been just described to him was most certainly innocence, without fail, that was contained within the anti-akuma weapons.

Edmund had apparently detected the innocence itself in its cube form, and as he had described, he was able to sense it and track it down. Seeing as the child was as directionally challenged as Allen and was unable to find his non-innocence bearing mother, there could be no mistake that the ability was genuine, especially since he had tracked down Kanda himself in a vast city swarming with people, and on Sunday, the Markey day no less.

If that was indeed entirely true, Edmund himself possibly possessed an ability that would prove value to the exorcists, by having the skill to locate innocence. Edmund had insisted that he was able to sense it better when Allen's arm was in its larger state, so perhaps whether or not it was invocated also played a role.

The possibilities were astonishing- perhaps he was even a compatible exorcist for one of the cubes in Hevlaska's storage; or there was the chance that he was a parasitic type like Crowley, whom had been involuntarily using his own powers before he was an exorcist.

In the latter, there was no knowing how, if the boy had any, the innocence would be activated, or was the ability just dormant and making itself manifest in small ways such as this. After all, many exorcists had unbelievably strange abilities, and Kanda was never surprised anymore. But still, the ability to sense innocence was up there on the list along with Hevlaska's ability to hoard innocence and General Cross's to convert akuma.

Whether or not that was the case was completely beyond Kanda's comprehension, but it made a call to Komui even the more urgent.

"Che." The exorcist muttered under his breath, resigning himself to the babysitting task. If Edmund was a little potential exorcist, and without any defensive/offensive abilities, at the very least none that Kanda could see, many akuma would target him.

The smell of the pastries fresh-baked and still hot all but assaulted his senses as he walked out of the alley, dragging Edmund in tow. Apfelstrudel, or whatever the Austrians called it, the scent was. He recognised it easily, because one could never forget such a spicy-sweet scent. Kanda supposed that the parasitic-type beansprout would have to be fed, to keep him in a stable presence of mind. Rabi could do with some nourishment as well, and Kanda certainly did not want to have him break down again in Vienna, of all places.

It was not altruism, not nicety, and most certainly not kindness upon his own part. It was making certain that the mission went to completion, and that required the wellbeing of his fellow colleagues. Which brought him back to his previous morbid thoughts of getting too sympathetic for his own good. As he fumbled for the coins to pay for the several bags of apple strudel he had purchased, Kanda could not help but give a little sigh.

He was getting too soft, and it certainly was not a good change. It was certainly for the worst, as he could positively attest. He stared at Edmund, who was crunching on a strudel, and heaved another long-suffering groan. Kanda was nearly positive that he could not possibly sink any lower other than being forced - as he would put it- to watch a little brat. Although he conveniently forgot that he had not recieved any orders nor was he under any obligation to do so.

The only thing worse was falling in love, and he was most definitely going to make sure that he would never do that.


	28. Timcanpi: On Love

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man.

A/N: The long-awaited and belated valentine's special chapter...part A. Allen and Timcanpi friendship waff. This takes place _before_ Real Smile, about 8 years or so when she was seven or so. As for Part B, I didn't write it up yet but I thought that it might be a nice follow-up to this chapter, and it will take place 3 or 4 years _after _Real Smile. (I meant to have a bit of background before and after this fic) And yes, it is meant to appease the KandaAllen fans as an apology for the slow pacing of the romance in the story, and it will contain spoilers for the rest of Real Smile. Enjoy. ♥

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Ch. 28

Timcanpi: On Love (Part A) ♥

Valentine's Day Special

_Feb 13. (8 years ago or so…)_

_Timcanpi's pov. _

Humans were strange things.

They were masters of the earth, and the grasses bent to their plows, the animals to the yokes, and they held the world under their dominion, having been blessed with above-average mind.

The mind in general, not intelligence, since one needed to have balls of steel to come as far as the human race had done. That could only be accountable to stupidity, since that was the only force strong enough. Never intelligence, because humans were, simply:

Strange and peculiarly without reason.

And that was certainly something coming from a little animated lump of golden metal with wings attached to it, whose own existence was enough of an oddity in its own.

Namely, the sentient golem Timcanpi.

It was of the moment one very befuddled little golem, whom was silently pondering the mysteries of this human world, as it usually did.

There was always a day each year in which these pitiful creatures of flesh and blood- as Timcanpi had always seen them in its very justified point of view- flaunted their emotions in cloying colors of pink/white/red and basically allowed themselves to go ballistic.

Meaning that they mindlessly slapped down money for chocolates, teddy bears, jewelry, and other such so-called frivolous items in completely asinine attempts to prove their affections for some other human.

Which was completely idiotic, from the golem's perspective, considering how the humans had always overrated matters of the heart.

Of course, Timcanpi had never had the pleasure or misfortune to ever experience such extreme feelings at all, with the exception of annoyance whenever Cross drank himself into a stupor or worry when little Allen, being the utter nitwit that she had always been, had gotten lost in some marketplace doing her errands.

It was all very well to express one's feelings, but devoting an entire holiday to it was blowing everything out of scale, and to completely inane and viral proportions that spewed a rise in the economy. It was a commercialized celebration of a useless human emotion, and thus useless.

But then again, Timcanpi had never been human in the first place, but had always seen fit to have some sort of opinion on just about every human affair, from Christmas to birthdays to Easter day.

Certainly all the fuss was good for the merchants- the people thronging the streets to suck up some sort of 'holiday special price' were numerous, and there was really no special price anyway, but rather just an over-glorified demand for some sort of just as over-glorified object.

Timcanpi had by observation found that people were generally sensitive to bargains of any sort, as they were either gullible or at the very least deceived enough by their own greed to be willing to buy enough chocolate – at a whopping _5 off_!- to feed all of the world's homeless.

Its own Master Cross had always grudgingly brought some sort of jewel-encrusted bracelet for any one of the women that he was seeing at any given February. It was _always_ some sort of glittery jewelry, every single year, but the redundancy had never mattered because he never saw the same woman twice, nor did he ever remain in any single country for long.

Timcanpi had always applauded his choice over the years, for imitation jewelry always came at good, affordable prices that would spare Cross's wallet and save plenty for the General's irrepressible habit of smoking high-quality smokes.

The diamonds were in reality nothing but well-disguised plastic, Master Cross being the cheapskate that he was. They could be brought at a dime apiece, and thus was truly a very good bargain. Moreover, as Valentine's Day was the next day, Cross could hardly bother to find something more valuable in the short span of time that he was allowed. With all necessary being said and done, it was the thought that counted.

Timcanpi was glad not to be the only one that was completely bewildered by this yearly occurrence that made madmen of the most sensible people. A very puzzled Allen had asked Master Cross what the entire to-do was all about, and had received a very vague answer about how she was a baka disciple and that she was too young to understand at the moment but perhaps in the future if she was lucky enough she might but that was only if she was lucky and some man took an interest in cross-dressing girls…it was more like some sort of conversational filler or evasion that the general usually utilized whenever the little girl was too inquisitive for her own good.

But then again, Timcampi had thought with a little twitch, no child could possibly surpass itself in mental aptitude, and if it itself was unable to grasp such a difficult complex as love, Allen would be even the more confused.

Of course, the poor little thing's only experience with romance was only that of reading those completely daft fairy tales that glamorized ridiculous situations like two particularly beautiful members of royalty having 'love at first sight,' whatever that meant, and some foul prince beating up poor innocent dragons.

Timcanpi had always disapproved of Allen's reading fiction, especially as it believed that giving a young impressionable kid such ludicrous trash was not fitting. However it figured it could cut her some slack because she was only seven years old of yet, and there would be plenty of time for Cross to expose her to more decent stuff. But as it was, she was an average enough reader to be able to understand most things written, with a few exceptions like her master's own horribly scrawling writing and Timcanpi's own scratches with a pen held in two tiny appendages.

As Timcanpi had picked up over the years, this peculiar, wasteful holiday was called Valentine's day, was named after two martyrs of the same name, and originated in the days of ancient Rome when it was merely a fertility festival and naked young men ran up and down the streets in celebration.

"Valentines?" Allen had asked Cross, completely naive, even after he had shoved a historical text at her in lieu of any further explanation. And then, just as daftly, "But how can two people have the same name?"

She was entirely missing the point, Timcanpi thought with another little internal chuckle. It itself had no intention of ever celebrating a holiday that had such lurid beginnings complete with public demonstrations of nudity. Allen being a pure-hearted little innocent whose mind was devoid of any dirty notions that most people tended to associate with the physical body, it was only natural for her to be completely clueless that she already was.

As popular as it seemed with couples and hopeless romantics still lost in dreams, Timcanpi had always failed to see the significance of Valentine's Day. It was as if the holiday was a tasteful display of wealth, or rather an annual event that drew up humans' sense of exhibitionism and made utter fools of them all. Not that they weren't already, but it made them a bit more weird than they already were.

And thus Timcanpi finally came to the conclusion that it was a convoluted scheme of the Earl to gain the money of the gullible, and to make 'love' an excuse to indulge one's want for worldly possessions.

Love was going to take the world over by storm, truffle by truffle, card by card, and march upon humanity with legions of teddy bears. It already held mankind within its tight pink-and-red embrace, and would easily strangle it.

It was all the Earl's doing, no doubt, and the gigantic cards bearing tooth-rottingly sweet messages were meant to slowly poison peoples' minds, and infect them. Even worse, the tiny sugar hearts that Allen was thoughtfully chewing on at the moment could possibly be miniature versions of akuma.

Indeed, it was evil, but Timcanpi had no idea how to stop disaster from coming about.

The exorcists were seemingly unaware of the threat as well, and even Master Cross had brought the customary bracelet for his lover, the candies for the gluttonous Allen, and seemed to be taking extra care with combing his hair that morning- although Timcanpi knew that it was more out of lust than love that he had wanted to make a good impression on the lovely blonde that he had met at some social gathering last week. Although it was perfectly aware that he was just going to use her as a temporary lover until he found some other female more to his taste (i.e. bountiful assets and absolutely stunning), Timcanpi could not help but be uneasy about the entire situation.

Fluttering anxiously, Timcanpi snatched the little paper bag of sugar hearts that Allen was currently eating and deposited them in a place high out of reach for her, making sure that she still would not be able to access it even if standing on a tall chair. Said girl sighed, and looked longingly at the sweet confections where they lay beckoning on top of the highest shelf, which was a good three feet above her little white head.

"Aww, Tim. What did you do that for?" She lisped, pouting. "I promise I won't ruin my dinner."

"Idiot disciple. It's because you are going to eat them all in a single sitting and thus make yourself sick." Master Cross muttered sternly, emerging from the washroom with his beard plucked to perfection and his hat already on.

It certainly was not the reason that Timcanpi had been thinking of, but as long as it would keep Allen safe from certain death, the golem did not particularly mind. It set itself upon the brim of Cross's hat as he continued on speaking, as he began lazily adjusting the collar the pristine white shirt he had just donned moments earlier.

"Stupid, haven't you already learned that lesson from overfeeding yourself on cupcakes? Timcanpi, don't let her eat that _rot_ until after dinner. And Allen- stop whining and pouting, or I'll really give you something to whine and pout about."

As Cross had been menacingly brandishing his pipe all the while, Allen had squeaked and cowered. "And if you want your precious candy back…" A maniacal glint sparkled malevolently from under the shadow cast by his hat, speaking of trouble. Timcanpi, amused, watched the cursed child back away step by step, her face puckered in apprehension.

"…I expect this entire house to be clean by the time I come back."

It was better than mucking out all the horses in the stable while they were in the English countryside, but still not a chore to scoff at considering its great magnitude. Needless to say, their living quarters were a mess, and had always been from the time they had moved in barely a month ago. All five floors of the run-down mansion that Cross had somehow procured with his many social connections were in a dire need of cleaning, and the only three rooms fit to be habitable were Cross's master bedroom, Allen's little gable room at the very top, and the bathroom. The lattermost was the cleanest, as Cross always insisted that Allen scrub it every day so that the sludge didn't accumulate.

Timcanpi itself had never minded messiness, as it had always slept in Cross Marian's hat, Allen's mess of white hair, the suitcases or in some cases the pockets of random articles of clothing that the two humans had brought on the journey. However, the dust was getting a bit dense to fly about in, after all, and it was like being in some sort of bizarre sandstorm.

"Master, you're going somewhere?" Allen asked, her blue eyes wide.

"Well, I'm dressed and have time to burn, what else would I do?" Cross replied, his voice slightly tinged with sarcasm. "I need to find a woman. I'll be back by nightfall, so find yourself something to eat or do. However, do not by any means touch my books or I will personally feed you to the piranha in the Amazon river."

Allen deflated, but perked up when he slyly mentioned that perhaps then she would be able to resume eating her precious candy.

Luring a young parasitic type with food was always the best option, as Timcanpi had noted in its interactions with the gluttonous Allen, especially if it was too inexperienced to consider any other reward. With that, he swept out of the house, leaving behind a cheerfully waving Allen and a disgruntled Timcanpi.

While Timcanpi had been musing over the problem of counterattacking love's infectious spread, Allen had already developed a battle strategy for dividing and conquering the evil dust, room by room.

The first thing to go, she had apparently decided, was all the cobwebs, which hung like morbid gauzy decorations. Much to Timcanpi's utter shock, she replaced them with pink and red streamers and hearts and other such ornamentations, in a childish attempt to decorate for the holiday. As soon as she had put them up the golem saw fit to tear them down and rip the colorful paper constructs to bits.

"Mou, Tim. What was that for?!"

The little exorcist had yelped indignantly. Lacking a voice, said golem was unable to inform her in an aggravatingly superior voice that she was defecting to the enemy.

"Nevermind." The little glutton sighed and went back to ridding the vicinity of all dust, attacking the floor vigorously with a broom that had certainly seen better days. Timcanpi marveled at the change; he hadn't even realized that the floor was of a nice soft plush carpet the color of beige, because of all the dirt that had cluttered it. Once or twice, Allen gave a wistful glance at where the sugar hearts lay.

Timcanpi hissed angrily and removed it somewhere even higher, and out of sight, watching with a wary eye as its young charge resumed cleaning. Random objects like Tuesday's ham, maps, and the odd coin or two were picked up and sorted into various categories, from 'trash' to 'Master Cross's things' to 'miscellaneous items to store in the attic.'

Needless to say, the youngster had had a frugal upbringing and thus retained the qualities of thrift i.e. the instincts of a pack-rat, squirreling away things that might be needed but never would be actually used in the future. Or at the very last, if not a pack rat, some creature stocking up for hibernation.

The golem watched bemused as old newspapers were carefully folded and put away, no doubt for her to fold fanciful paper constructions with- after their visit to Japan last year, she had become infatuated with the paper art hey called origami; the furniture was shifted around, with aid of the invocated arm, into some semblance of organization.

It was still a bit difficult for the arm to invocate, but it always took a while for parasitic types to familiarize themselves with their own innocence. Master Cross was a decent master, and not at all impatient, but rather preferring to verbally skewer his little disciple, sometimes for no other reason than pure sport.

"Eh…Timcanpi…" The exorcist said, from where she was haphazardly perched upon the window sill in an attempt to shine the very top of the glass. Timcanpi bit back a squeak of worry, for it never knew when the fragile glass might break through and the child topple down all five stories to smash into the street below.

Her eyes, too big for her peaked little face, stared down in fascination. The golem alighted upon her head to watch what held her attention. Her interested gaze was focused upon a couple walking in the street below- ordinary people, certainly nothing special about them! Other than the fact that they were looking into each others' eyes with tender looks and holding hands, and the golem winced at their closeness. Didn't they know how many pathogens and bacteria could be spread like that?! Love was all the Earl's doing, and he wanted to get the human race killed off- disease was probably as good a way as any other.

"…Why isn't Master isn't like that with his girlfriends?…He's so strange."

Timcanpi snorted a little golem-snort, the closest it could get to a human expression.

"That was a really funny sneeze there, Tim. Are you sick?" Allen asked detachedly, her mind still elsewhere. "But I thought golems don't get sick, Master told me…"

Taking cues of normalcy from Marian Cross was most definitely not something the little corruptible exorcist should do, because it was certainly not normal and appropriate behavior to drink oneself stupid, to bed someone new every night, to verbally abuse and threaten their young disciple, to force said young disciple to gamble for money, and to rack up numerous massive debts that were, again, left for the young disciple to handle.

Allen obviously didn't care for an answer, and was probably not wanting one anyhow from a little contraption that couldn't talk, but she did sigh wistfully, and continued scrubbing at the already flawlessly clean glass with a renewed vigor.

"…Tim, do you think I'll ever be like that someday? With a boyfriend? Not as many as Master's girlfriends, but still…" She bit her lower lip shyly, pensive and yearning. "But I'm dressed as a boy, so when I grow up I doubt anyone would take an interest in me."

Her eyes bugged out as the couple she had been observing stopped below her window, and kissed. Allen sighed again, and swiped at the window half-heartedly, as if to banish the image from her mind.

Timcanpi likewise heaved a breath of relief, glad that the constant interrogation on its opinion had stopped. It fluttered about her head, and wondered when the couple would come up for air, since it had at least a few minutes already.

"Tim, where do people put their noses when they kiss? And how do they breathe?"

Timcanpi nearly took a nosedive towards the now spotless floor, wanting to die right there. Valentine's day was certainly addling everyone's heads, and it could not wait until tomorrow was over with. The sooner the better, since all this sentimental talk was rotting its wires with sweetness.

Honestly, did the daft little brat actually expect it, of all things, to give an answer to that?! Timcanpi would mourn her defection over to the dark side.

All of a sudden, Timcanpi felt a little pressure upon its head, a little smack, and warmth. A cute, sugary-sweet, fluffy little wet kiss, as only little girls could possibly do.

"There! That wasn't so horrible was it? But you don't have a nose…but that's all for the better isn't it."

No, it wasn't horrible at all.

Although Timcanpi would never be able to tell her that.

"That wasn't a real kiss though, unfortunately. But that's pretty close, isn't it?" The little exorcist smiled winningly at the golem, batting eyelashes that would no doubt would make her a man-killer in the future.

It was as close a kiss as Timcanpi knew that it would ever get, and the inexpressible bubbly feeling of joy, of being cherished, had welled up in it like a spring.

But no, Timcanpi had no intentions of giving the candies back to her.

At the very least not yet, because dinner hadn't rolled around. Not because of the Earl's convoluted, dastardly schemes, because Timcanpi realized now that. It could never be evil, such a feeling like that, so pure and tugging the little golem's inexistent heartstrings. It was troublesome and too saccharine, but it was nice once in a while, to be smothered by that kind of feeling.

It was little wonder that the weak pathetic humans craved it, but for once Timcanpi didn't really mind being like them, in this aspect. Simply because it felt really good.

Master Cross's programming Timcanpi to be self-aware and sentient had been a success, even more than the man had expected probably- the golem had never known it could feel like the humans did. Love wasn't so bad after all. Not in the slightest.

It, however, would have preferred that she had wiped the powdery candy's sugar off her lips before she had given it the kiss. After all, it left a little white trail on its golden skin that would be just one more thing for her to clean.

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Part B comes sometime in the future, as soon as I finish it I'll post it. Please R&R.


	29. Late As Usual

Disclaimer; I do not own D. Gray man.

A/N: Well, here is part B, the second part of the little valentine special, that I wrote especially for the romantic souls out there. I nitpicked on this, and couldn't bear to post it even though it was long overdue...it's ...March, and here I am posting something that should have been up in February. But I wasn't really satisfied, and wanted to rewrite it over and over to portray a more adult relationship, not all fluffy-wuffy cute teenage puppy love. Since it's a few years after Real Smile (and it's not really supposed to be part of the story), they'd be older. Still...WARNING: MAJOR OOC...

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Ch. 29 Late as Usual

She was late, as usual, but by much longer the span of time that she usually was. Three hours, in comparison with her usual one.

He hoped that it was because she had gorged herself on breakfast and not because she was lost, because they had been meeting in the _same spot_ every single Saturday morning that they were not on missions, if not to spar and practice then to engage in other more leisurely activities. Like talking, although he usually never took part in it really.

Just holding hands, kissing, and hugging was fine with him, and over time he had been surprised to discover that such blatant shows of affection were not in the slightest repulsive. Awkward, yes, at first, but much better than talking.

She had not grown out of being directionally challenged, even after 3 years; As he had always believed, clumsiness was a hard thing to break. But then again it was certainly not nice to call one's girlfriend that, even if it was in one's own head, and even if it was true.

True in a strangely endearing way, although in anyone else it would be a most unflattering trait. But it became her as all her flaws did, and was in a sense, almost perfect. He would never say it aloud to her face though, because of previous times he had used to call her idiotic and naïve and insufferably thick. All of which she had used to be really, and sometimes still was. Stupidity was hard to grow out of.

He would never tell her that, either.

And then he spotted her, coming up the path from the headquarters into the training area. She walked like a boy still, with none of the sashaying, undulating movements that some women had, although there was a slight particularly feminine, hip-rolling motion to her gait.

He had always wondered why he didn't realize it for so long, before she shed her masquerade. Now that he noticed it, it was so glaringly obvious.

Time had tempered her into someone whom he had grown to have respect and love for, and her appearance had also been altered, though not as subtly. Gone was the short, shoulder-length hair, and the flowing white tresses now reached mid-back and hung there in a braid…which was, surprisingly, not present today.

He blinked, his brain nearly short-circuiting as he tried to comprehend why. She had done something strange to her hair so that it curved and warped into loopy white spirals…women called it _curls_ or something like that. It looked familiar, and he realized that it was the same style that she had reluctantly sported years earlier, on their mission to England.

She still wore the same model of uniform she had worn back then, although the black was a little faded by now after repeated washings. Of course, sans the makeup and bandages. By now they were unnecessary, although he was secretly fairly glad that she had worn the same male version of the exorcist uniform as always; her wearing a miniskirt would pose to be quite a distraction. Which could be dangerous in battle.

"Hmph." As she came jogging up at a leisurely pace that was too slow for his liking, he scowled at her. "Late as usual, Beansprout. The sun is practically too high in the sky for training now."

It was only a few minutes after five, and he didn't mind being hot. However, he would rather not spar because in any season, her fair European skin burned and irritated easily in the sun. The winter glare was particularly harsh.

"Heh, sorry. Edmund wouldn't study his books and Rabi dragged me in to persuade him. I ended up leaving Tim with him, because Tim bites very hard. And so does Truffle, although he's lazily curled up on Rabi's lap." She said ruefully, in the too-sincere way that was her own brand of honesty. "…With Rinali, of course."

"…Leaving your golem and pet cat with your little brother should only take a minute at most."

"Not if he was throwing a tantrum." She muttered, rolling up her sleeve and showing him the rapidly darkening bruise on her upper right arm. "He threw a book at Rabi, and it hit _me_."

"Rabi's a bookman now; he can deal with a little boy. Who's old enough to learn responsibility." He said in short clipped tones, eying the injury. He shook his head in disapproval.

Although he knew how Edmund could be, and would always see him as the annoying little kid whom followed him for a hour through the city of Vienna.

Abruptly, he grabbed her unhurt arm and tugged her towards a bench, sheathing mugen as they went. "Sit." He ordered, ripping a strip from his shirt and winding it around her arm, firmly but as carefully as possible.

"I'm not a doll; I won't _break_ or anything." Her voice had sharpened somewhat, held a bit of temper and affronted manner.

She had a right to be offended, since she was as capable an exorcist as he was in her own right. "Che. I don't need to be told that." He gave her a glare, and continued dressing the bruise, almost defiantly. He was a very possessive person at times, taken by fits of overprotective feelings whenever she was concerned.

The soft warmth of her skin, along with its fragile fineness, was intoxicating, driving him to slow down his work just so he could stroke it. But not slower by too much, lest she notice and ask him about it in that asininely stupid way of hers.

And that would never do, because he had no words that were able to express how he truly felt about her. They froze on his tongue every single time, because as pretty and poetic he would try to make them, it was not enough, but he knew not what more to give her.

Words just cannot convey that depth of emotion, and he was nearly too proud to use them anyway, even if he was not struck speechless every time.

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"I can handle it myself." She jerked her arm away from his grasp, suddenly, because she could no longer bear it. Even after so many years, she was still the same naïve, weak, pathetically incompetent person that he had criticized daily.

She refused to be seen like that ever again, because that was whom she had been and she didn't like it at all. She felt something twist and shudder within her, painfully, knotting itself up and creating a lump in her throat. "Ow!"

He had not let go of her arm, and in tearing it free jolted it. She had moved too fast, and her arm throbbed agonizingly for such a small bruise. Unable to bite back a little yelp, she hung her head guiltily as strong hands took her arm again.

She was still tired.

It had drained her, the trip she had just gotten back from the day before; Last week she had again went to London, but this time alone and bearing flowers instead of her uniform. Not on a mission- it was to pay her respects to the lonesome grave of a prince of a man, a hero of bygone days whose deep moral code and determination had led him to walk the long and difficult path of disillusion that ended in tragedy.

"Don't move it for now." He said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, caressing away her fears that she had angered him, and that now he would abandon her.

She shivered at the thought, and the old feelings of dread again made themselves apparent in her mind. She had sank off the bench, to sit on the grass, leaning against his knees and propping her arm up on his lap. Her thoughts were dispelled when he slid off to sit next to her, even though she was perfectly aware that he was not fond of being on the ground. It had something to do with the apparent lack of height one had when down there, and that people knelt on the floors in dojos.

She heard him exhale, and then almost tentatively, hold her, turning her inwards so that she could bury her face into his chest as she usually did. Physical contact was still a bit strange to the two of them, one because of a life of self-isolation, and the other because all previous embraces had been false. It was not uneasy, however, just chaste and sweet in its own way.

As much as both needed affection, it took much to get over the reluctance to be in such proximity of another person. It had taken very long to get themselves familiarized with each others' bodies to actually work up the nerve to actually touch, but it was worth it. Delicately stepping around each other, to avoid what they viewed was an unnecessary and improper connection between each other.

It required willpower, not to break away because of the possibility of getting hurt. Three years had bred it, had reinforced it to become lasting.

There was no safer spot in the world, she thought languidly, than being in his arms.

It had never ceased to amaze her how she could find such comfort in another person, or how it seemed so natural and thoughtless. And moreover, he was gentle, tried to be nice to her, although at times it was nearly beyond his capability to do so.

He was not a soft person, and would never be, no matter how he had mellowed out, but she never minded because otherwise it would not be him.

She tried to do her best by him, but she knew that half the time she simply didn't measure up. It took 2 in a relationship, in the very end, and that was exactly what master Cross had told her (and which was also exactly why his own never worked out more than a week).

Slowly, he laid a fluid kiss upon her mouth, being surprisingly tender for a person whom was otherwise coldly brutal in his judgments and in his work as an exorcist. His hand reached around to the back of her head, and she felt him brush the tattoo at the base of her skull- he had always held a fetish for that tattoo, for some reason.

The way he held her and invoked the fluttery feelings of butterflies in her stomach gave proof to how he made her feel: wanted and loved, and not the monster and social reject that she had been led to believe she was in earlier days.

She pressed him down onto the grass, and he obligingly spooned up right behind her, resting his head next to hers. It was an open display of affection that was most unusual for him, especially since he was still the infamously cool ice-prince of the clergy.

The sudden movement surprised her, but she knew that he craved touch as much as she did; in fact, he seemed to be a closet snuggle-bunny at times. A gruff, stolid one at that, one that would grouse about how annoying she was at one moment and then give her a quick, embarrassed peck on the mouth that was extraordinarily cute and sweet coming from him.

They fit perfectly together in an embrace, sharing their warmth and silence and so much more. She ran her hands through his hair- she still couldn't believe that only washing with soap could possibly give hair such a luster and strength; indeed, there was not a single split end in sight.

"…what happened to your hair?" He mumbled next to her ear.

Only he would say that as if it was a bad thing; straight compliments were rare and far-between even for her. She sniffled in a mock-injured fashion, since he was always put-off if she acted in an exaggeratedly coy fashion to tease him.

"What do you think happened to it? It got itself twisted and pulled around a red-hot iron." She said wickedly, crossing her fingers and hoping that he was in a good mood and wouldn't threaten to chop off her head with the oversized kitchen knife of his that was always within his hand's reach.

"…"

"You're going to tell me that if I had wasted less time doing it, I could have been training." She said resignedly.

"Actually, I was going to suggest that simply leaving it down would look better."

She was actually surprised that he actually gave her feedback on her hair, although a little more tact would be nice. Of course, he could never do it. With the same oblivious solemnity, he had glowered at Rinali when the pretty Chinese exorcist had asked him how the newest version of the uniform miniskirt had looked on her. He had said that it was not very flattering to her stick legs and thus had been nearly mortally injured by a clipboard.

"I wanted to look nice today, though."

"How would drying your hair into twisted globs of frizzles make you look nice?"

At the least he was much more articulate now. She was not disappointed, no, not in the slightest. "If just for today…"

She faltered, and then broke off. Honestly, he seemed to still know a minimal amount about women even at his age, and she wouldn't be surprised if he still sort of thought of her as a boy. He didn't understand sometimes, but that was just him- proud, bullheaded, and lovably stupid at times.

"Is there anything special about today that I should know?" He asked sarcastically, although he did gently kiss the junction between her neck and shoulder, pulling down the collar of her uniform though it was fairly chilly.

"Of course not." She said back, a little too sweetly than she had intended to; she hadn't intended nor had she wanted the little tinge of sarcasm and iron to creep in as well. But she knew that was being a bitch would get her nowhere, and any yelling at him would be futile.

But it was too late. And being romantically involved certainly didn't guarantee that he would back down from what he presumed to be a challenge. He never did.

"If you say so."

Two could play at this game, obviously.

Hell. It was so many things that she felt for him, and it was still confusing as ever, with her frequently wondering how to channel her feelings into a way that would be acceptable to him and that wouldn't smother him.

"Do you know what day it is?" She said archly, turning over on her back to face him. The green grass was coated with a light dew that had frozen over in the February dawn, and radiated a chill that misted the entire training ground.

She saw him furrow his brow and the gears turn slowly in his head; she already knew that he was thinking that it couldn't possibly be her birthday, since she had already had it in December; and that it couldn't possibly be their anniversary either since they had never really celebrated it anyway, becoming a couple only after the lines of love and hate had been blurred into something unrecognizable. As it was, neither really remembered how they were together in the first place, although their friends constantly reminded the two that it took lots of prodding and screaming and fighting…

"…no." He admitted, staring at her with a laughably bemused expression upon his normally stern face. The look was so incredibly out of place that she had to hold back her chuckles. He never did like to admit to anything, so when he did it was sullen and confused.

"Two words. The first one begins with a 'v' and the second one with a 'd.' It's a holiday."

"Just tell me already." The vein pop was already apparent on his smooth forehead.

" V-A-L-E….that's the first four letters, and it's a holiday."

"Oi. Beansprout. You're as annoying as always."

"I aim to please." And no, she added silently, she did not have a death wish in the very slightest. She hoped that he got the tacit point, as she would not like to die on this day of all days. He looked bothered and irritated, and was turning a funny shade of purple.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Kanda." She whispered, feeling silly. Calling him by his last name out of habit- was it really strange to not call one's boyfriend by his given name?

And then snickered as he turned his face away slightly to hide the red blush that had crept up on him despite himself.

Before she met him, she had never known that her 'type' of guys were the ones that behaved like big lumps of ice.

She was fifteen when she knew she felt something for him- although she had not known what.

Sixteen when they had first admitted their growing attraction for each other, and first kissed.

Seventeen when she fell deeper in love, spiraling ever lower into a frenzied emotion that was so hard for them to control sometimes.

And now, she was eighteen, and knew that she would never be without him, and that he was the only one whom could make her melt like this.


	30. All About Us

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man. Nor do I own "All about us," which is by Tatu.

A/N: Happy Easter! And this chapter returns to what's happening not at Vienna but in the meantime at the Dark order. BTW, thanks for all the reviews! Almost 200!

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30. All About Us

_Dark Order Headquarters, Komui's POV_:

Komui Li was no fighter.

Never had been one, and most definitely would not able to stand on the front lines of battle with guns blazing and a war-cry on his lips.

But now, with death hot on his heels and him being pursued- running, stumbling in such a undignified manner- Komui wished that he had been one. Hindsight and retrospection were very ugly things in his opinion, because it always was what it could have, would have, _should have_ been. But wasn't, and he had nobody but himself to blame for that.

The scientist made the mistake of looking backwards, inadvertently slowing down and causing Rinali to shove him forward again with a force bred of desperation; had it been anytime else, she would have been much gentler. However, the sight of a stampede of akuma all eager and going all-out for blood would have made the strongest-hearted man quiver and piss his pants.

It was a wonder, Komui mused as he ran, that they had even been able to infiltrate in the first place. Other than the incompetent door warden proving to be an exception, the Black order headquarters possessed the finest security system known to man, with countless surveillance cameras and anti-akuma barriers erected, all of it fortified with innocence-infused defense mechanisms. But then again, that was not the thing for him to focus on at the moment, as escaping with his life seemed to be a much more pressing matter.

If he died, he had but few regrets, but there was one that had haunted him ever since his entrance into the clergy.

He could understand why Allen Walker never saw fit to divulge any of the secrets that he carried, including the fact that the boy had constructed an akuma and killed his father; he himself had one that not even Rinali was entitled knowledge of. He was a hypocrite- all of them were, but he was an extraordinary one in particular. The duties of being the head scientist required the lifelong promise of pledging his all to the destruction of akuma and, in turn, the foiling of the Millenium Earl's scenario.

He had given as much as he could, as much as he was willing to give, but not his all. Certainly his sister had been ripped away from him to become an exorcist, and he spent his days languishing away in an office or conducting experiments that would hopefully yield ground-breaking results.

All this he did, but he could never had given himself over to the organization which his and his sister's lives revolved around.

Komui only regretted that he himself had never been tested for compatibility with innocence.

It was like a diagnosis for some unfortunate terminal disease that apparently was passed down by a family bloodline- the exact same waiting with bated breath, the fervent wishing that one did not inherit the dominant trait for such a sickness, that one would never have to know that, yes, that was how one would die. It was a death sentence, handed down through generations.

Likewise was the compatibility test. Every exorcist knew their fate once they were ordained into the order, and there was but one sad end for each and every one, all the roads leading to the same inescapable conclusions: that of dying in battle.

That was their sole purpose- although nobody ever went into a fight intending to lose.

But Komui had never taken the compatibility test himself, for fear of what fate would be assigned him if he tested positively. Yes, as he had proclaimed to Rabi- he was only able to stand on the sidelines. Cowardice would not let him do anything else, and it was not because he could not as much as he would not.

If anything, Rinali was only a reminder of what would happen, and it was common knowledge, backed by research he had conducted himself, that more often than not full-blooded relatives of an exorcist were able to synchronize with innocence themselves. Which meant that there was a 50-50 percentage of chance that he himself could possibly be an exorcist.

50 percent was too high a level of possibility for him to comprehend, how it could mean that his entire life teetered here and there on an unbalanced scale, leaning either towards impending death or…postponed death, say.

It was treacherous, traitorous, and completely dishonorable, but Komui would never want to find out whether or not he could be an exorcist. He had not the guts nor the bravery required for such a job, and was resigned to a much safer position. Although the glory was not his, was never his…it was all the exorcists', and should be. For someone whom was the brains of the order, he shunned responsibility. The fear of death and losing was too strong in him, and tasted like iron and blood on his tongue whenever he saw an akuma.

_How, then, he had always wondered? How can he be worthy of the title of Chief? _

He wasn't. But nobody knew that, nor did he feel like informing them himself.

When all he could do was to cower in his lofty position, behind the lines of defense, when his little sister and everyone else that was dear to them stood strong and never surrendering. In the true form of what they believed in, they were the strong ones when he could not be the fearless leader that he was supposed to be but could never be.

It was only after much work on his own part that he wasn't completely repulsed by blood- working on parasitic types, after all, involved plenty of work on their bodies, and as much as he hated to make other people hurt, he had to go to work with his drill.

Although one would never guess by the insane grin that he had learned to use whenever he was queasy. He would not be so crass as to delight in the pain of others, as amusing as he admitted it could be at times.

His fighting skills were atrocious, and all childhood attempts at learning martial arts had gone seriously awry until he was deigned more of the 'book-smart' type and shoved things to study.

Which was all very well for him, but Komui Li certainly wished that he had not failed physical education in school as he ran huffing and puffing in the direction of the safe room…

…with at least five akuma in tow…

… and the infernal little under-aged terror named Rhode Camelot hot on his trail…

…Rinali right behind him and deflecting and/or pulverizing any bullets that came too close…

…and Miranda running alongside him carrying a sack full of important papers and files of research…

…and most irritatingly of all, that blasted umbrella of the Earl's, Rero or whatever it called itself, screaming its little annoying pumpkin head off and encouraging the akuma to give chase….

Needless to say, it was no typical mundane day at Exorcists' headquarters- in fact, he hadn't felt such terror since Kanda mercilessly slaughtered his beloved Komurin. Now, an enraged and soba-deprived Kanda was high on his list of most feared things, ranking just below the Millenium Earl (which tied with a dying Rinali) and just above paperwork. Rhode Camelot was on par with the Earl, he decided grimly, perhaps even worse with her infuriating Lolita-esque juvenility and gung-ho attitude above killing.

His panting was loud and throbbing in his ears as he doggedly continued stumbling towards the chamber that housed Hevlaska. In the obligatory safety know-how pamphlet that had been distributed at the beginning of every year to the order personnel, the innocence-keeping exorcist's quarters had been designated as checkpoint one for reconnaissance if something went wrong and evacuation was necessary.

Komui's own copy of the pamphlet had been used as a coaster for his mug until it had gotten too saturated from repeated coffee spillings. But he did hope that his employees would remember to gather at the designated place, if they had even read the papers at all.

Almighty Christ, deliver us from foolish decisions, he prayed as he ran. I swear, I'll do half my paperwork from now on if we can all survive this.

Ok, maybe all the paperwork, the scientist amended grimly as he tripped and flung himself forwards on all fours, in the process feeling something go taut in his leg.

"Hurry, hurry!" Rinali snagged the back of his shirt, and jerked him up with a strength most peculiar for one of her petite size.

Miranda stopped in her tracks, and looked backwards over her shoulder at the akuma that were gaining fast on them. She raised her right arm, poised to invocate her time record into a defensive sphere that would negate any and all attacks.

"Save that for later." Komui barked at her, his anxiety making him curt. "We'll need your Time Out later to protect our escape vessel." He amended, grimacing at the pain in his left ankle.

"Can you walk?" Miranda asked worriedly, watching Rinali launch one of her famous spinning kicks and send the foremost akuma flying backwards, knocking the rest of his brethren back a little.

"Of course I can." He said, trying for his usual nonchalant manner, but he knew that his face had gone pale and that he was limping heavily. The scientist shrugged off the exorcist's extended hand, knowing full well that if she stopped to aid him, it would slow them all down considerably.

In actuality, he knew that he had probably pulled something unfortunate in his leg that would no doubt hinder him in his escape. Judging from the straining pain and tightness all around the afflicted area, he judged it to be some injury involving his Achilles tendon. "Holy shit." Although it was very unusual for him to curse at anything, he allowed an obscenity to escape his mouth as he staggered on his feet, but refused to stop moving.

"I can't hold them off for much longer-" Rinali gasped out, lashing out with a powerful foot to deflect a missile that was heading for them.

With horror, Komui spotted the lightest outlines of black stars beginning to form on her pale skin whether a bullet had struck her. It was a sickly black, the color of rot, and it was too dark on her flesh, like some out of place disease that had suddenly afflicted her. It was with reckless abandon that she again sprang forth to engage the enemy, and as she did so Komui's heart caught in his throat. Her perpetual determination and selfless sacrificing was like a mocking reminder of what he couldn't- or wasn't willing- to do.

"Move it!" Rinali screamed at him, and he stared. She never dared to raise her voice to her dear, beloved big brother.

It wasn't until a good few minutes passed before he woke up and found himself being tugged and pulled along by a huffing and puffing Miranda, whom was muttering little self-encouraging phrases under her breath in a squeaky little voice, if to bolster her own wilting courage.

The staircase upwards to Hevlaska's chamber was quite narrow, and in fact was the narrowest of the staircases in the entirety of the tower. It was so designed for a good reason, as Hevlaska's chamber was the designated escape point and having narrow ways provided easier defending from any intruders. Of course, that also made projectiles a little harder to avoid, but every advantage came with a downside and he wasn't going to complain really in any circumstances.

He painfully scraped his knee again a stair as he dragged his injured limb upwards, but forced himself to continue on doggedly, knowing that there was no time for stopping. The top of the stairs was thankfully clear, with Hebraska's door in plain sight. Such sweet, sweet relief it was to see the otherwise plain old door, but Komui was full aware that the struggle was yet to come.

"Hyyaah!!"

A small metallic silver object whizzed past his panting face in a speedy blur of movement, aimed towards the akuma that was aiming at Rinali. The canister smashed into the creature's lump of a square-shaped head, and exploded into a screen of gray smoke.

Simultaneously, as if it had always been a planned scenario, there were a host of other similarly deafening pops that set off an entire chain reaction, the trigger of which had been the smoke bomb. Behind Rinali, a wall of fire erupted, a little too close to her for Komui's liking, but it was an temporary barrier as the akuma were but level ones and thus not very clever at bypassing obstacles.

"Hurry up, sir!" A young boy with a cheeky grin and nose spotted with freckles called to him from behind a face mask. He held up two fingers in a premature sign of victory. And then gulped as a bullet came two inches close of taking off his head.

It took the chief scientist's supposedly renowned brains to recognize the kid, and another two to match name to face, or rather father to son. He almost breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that at the very least, if Jean was around then his father must be safe as well. Jean waved at him to hurry on, and Komui hid a smile behind a hand, knowing full well that the true soul of an exorcist was instilled in the boy, even if the boy himself possessed no compatibility.

The diversion, as simple and ineffective as it was, had worked, and Rhode Camelot was only human anyway, with human capabilities and as far as he was concerned, human weaknesses. Or perhaps a little less weakness, Komui amended as he saw the faint outline of a still-pristinely fluffy gothic dress peeking through the smoke. Either way, the Noah family possessed unusual powers that no normal person could ever wield; they had sold their souls to the devil, and had the benefits that were reaped from it.

And then there was good, dependable Chef Jerry suddenly there to give him a hand at his own risk, hauling him through the door and relieving Miranda of the sack of documents that she carried. River Wenham had taken out a gigantic gun that Komui recognized as one of his own unfortunate experimental hybrids between a bazooka and a machine gun; the recoil was horrible and the scientist winced as the contraption nearly blew up his assistant's face. Toma the finder stood by with a shield to cover them, although it would not last long against dark matter.

Once Rinali too was safe inside only did River slam and secure the door with the many dead bolts that were built in from the inside. It was not a second too soon, as barely a second later did the akuma ram itself against the strong wood, attempting to force their way in.

"Rero! Rero!"

Everyone in sight that was crammed into Hevlaska's chamber, including the large exorcist itself, shuddered perceptibly. The earl and/or Rhode and their confoundedly twisted ideas of evil cuteness were creepy in a sense, and one would never would have expected that antagonists mixed so well with toys and frills. From demented toys to talking umbrellas, it crossed the threshold of 'adorable' to transgress on downright 'spooky.'

"Everyone here?" Komui managed to gasp out, feeling his heart pounding hard against his ribs, as if it were to break out of his chest with exertion. He gazed around frantically at the mass of finders and other personnel, as if to confirm that indeed every one of his precious employees had reached the point, all around eighty or so of them.

His heart tightened inexpressibly, as he noted down several injuries and the fact that it was so crowded that Hevlaska was forced to carry a few people in its arms. His expression darkened even further as he recognized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that they lacked all defenses whatsoever inside, with them possessing only three exorcists to fight, and one of the three protecting innocence and the second one having only defensive qualities that were confined to the chamber. Which left only one to attack and

"Yep, chief, you were the last one." River said, almost with an air of infinite patience.

"Well, then should we get going?" He hobbled painfully over to the control panel, pointedly ignoring the fact that all eyes were on him, or rather his by now obvious limp. The controls were familiar in such a time of abruptness and haste, the handles reassuringly smooth to the touch and fitting perfectly in his grasp.

It was power in his hands, guaranteeing safety for not only himself but also for the people whom all looked to him now for protection and leadership.

To provide guidance required the abandonment of all conflicting personal issues, and to cast aside any emotions. It was to become detached from the self and think as a cohesive entity, for the best of everyone's collective interests. As horrible as he had been in the field of management, he could never be able to fail everyone in this critical moment. Even if, Komui thought sadly as his gaze drifted across the room, it was at great personal loss.

_They say  
They don't trust  
You, me, we, us  
So we'll fall  
If we must  
Cause it's you, me  
And it's all about  
It's all about_

"…So it's really all about everyone else, huh?..." The scientist murmured softly under his breath longingly, remembering the harsh words that he had flung back in Rabi's face when the redhead had stormed into his office.

The pounding of the akuma against the door grew much louder, and he distractedly wondered just where they had procured a battering ram. The loud smashing of wood on wood seemed to him to match the same beating of his own heart, too loud and too hollow within his empty chest cavity.

'Selfishly having him break from his duties would only be self-gratifying'… Komui realized with a hint of chagrin that he himself had coldly stated that about Allen Walker in such a matter of fact way, but when it all came down to facing reality as it was, so cold and callous- when the precious object at stake was his beloved baby sister, there was no choice nor was there any alternative. As heartbreaking as it was to realize the consequences of sending a lone exorcist out, he knew perfectly what duty needed of him and required her for.

_It's all about us  
It's all about  
All about us  
There's a thing that they can't touch  
'Cause ya know  
It's all about us _

"Ri-" His voice faltered and broke, it being half a pitch higher than what it normally would be.

The scientist -no, no longer the scientist, but only a protective elder brother- tried again to issue the order once more and force sound out past the lump quickly forming in his mouth. Desperately, Komui looked to River for aid, but he and everyone else merely stared back at him like completely mute, dumb animals. He gritted his teeth and turned away in the only way he could do, trying to hide his unspeakable hurt to the world.

He caught Rinali's warm gaze and held it for a moment; she steadily looked back from where she was perched on Hevlaska's large shapeless shoulder, and slid down from her perch with a liquid, fluid grace that was so like the water upon which she gently glided over, like a wind over a still lake.

There were no need for words, because they knew.

_It's all about  
All about us  
all about us  
We'll run away if we must_

For an instant he thought about simply throwing aside what needed to be done- duty, position, leadership, honor, morals, responsibility, and medals of bravery be damned. He would pick filial love over heroics.

"Rinali…Don't you dare die." He said quietly. And then, in a much softer, choked voice. "Don't you dare. Allen-kun would be sad, wouldn't he?"

"Brother." She said, invocating her dark boots. "No matter whom I fall in love with, you're still one of my favorite people in the world."

And then she was gone, unfurling metaphorical wings and leaving him behind with an aching conscience.

He would have gladly walked all ten thousand miles of burning coals into the dark punishing depths of purgatory, if Rinali accompanied him on the way down as well. Fire and brimstone were nothing compared to a life without the sister he had promised to never leave. Falling together was the least he could do for her- she'd be lonely in death if she died first in battle, wouldn't she?

_If they hurt you  
They hurt me too  
So we'll rise up  
Won't stop  
And it's all about  
It's all about_

But then Komui saw, after she lifted the latches herself, and closed it firmly shut behind her, that all those visions were not to be. The door clicked shut with a sound of impending finality, and he could only close his eyes and cry within.

"Chief! We need to leave, _now_!"

It was the urgency in River's voice that snapped him out of his sorrow-induced trace, and he immediately morphed into the cockily confident, silly leader that he knew would be familiarly reassuring to his staff.

"Well then!" He briskly grabbed a lever and yanked, the other hand speedily and unfailingly conducting calculations for takeoff on the chart onscreen. The altitude, and the force of secession from the tower- with a rumbling rolling sound, he felt the chamber begin to shake and prepare itself for departure.

"Um, everyone grab on to something!" The scientist ordered, almost belatedly as the floor rocked and most of the personnel were sent flying from one side to another. However, Komui could not even spare a grin for the fact that most people had chosen to attach themselves to the sturdy and stolidly huge Hevlaska.

Designed so as to provide a quick and efficient way to evacuate the gathered innocence, Hevlaska's room was but an annex that would be able to provide a getaway route at any given moment, that would be able to separate from the building and become a vehicle for escape. Rescuing the employees of the order had apparently been only a last concern, as one could easily see from the tiny space within that it had not been built to accommodate many people. Komui gnashed his teeth in frustration as he realized what this tacitly implied.

"When? When will the sacrifices end?!"

The chamber, which had been built almost as an afterthought into the final structure of the headquarters, detached from the tower with a large tearing sound that seemed to rip apart his own soul at the same time.

_They don't know  
They can't see  
Who we are  
Fear is the enemy  
Hold on tight  
Hold on to me  
'Cause tonight_

Desperately, Komui was unable to wrench his eyes away from the screen that transmitted images of the pending, dreadfully one-sided battle outside. At first, upon successful separation from the headquarters, there was nothing but smoke, dust, and rubble. His life, crumbling before his eyes.

The demons were all out there in plain view, not only the level ones but also the higher ranking, more sentient and powerful ones that even three exorcists combined would be hard-pressed to conquer them.

And then, from the ruins, ascending into the sky on winged feet, was an angel, but one of the broken earth and humankind.

An angel of destruction, mercy, and goodwill and hope; both the black and the white as her tattered uniform was. She was the soft gentle breeze, the avenging hurricane, and the powerful wind full of heartfelt determination. Crimson blood, like soft rain, fell from her slender form that was so beautifully ripped apart in mid-air, as Rinali soared and killed.

"Miss Rinali!" Toma gasped; it was as much an expression of emotion that Komui had ever heard from the usually taciturn finder.

Volleys of missiles were dispatched their way, and Komui willed the monitor not to break under the black energy and to keep Rinali in sight at all times. And watched helplessly as Rinali threw herself in front of the flying escape vessel and sent supersonic blades flying out with the force of her feet to destroy all the projectiles.

Taking advantage of the lapse in the battle, Komui took the chance to pilot the vessel further away, to avoid the thick of the fighting. Rinali hovered protectively about it, circling about and swooping into the thick of missiles with little concern.

Her flawless skin was marred with countless wounds, her silken hair unbound and flowing disheveled and ragged in the air. Every gasping breath she took, every single heartbeat- that much closer was she closer to death, as they all were, Komui realized with a sense of fatality.

Her bangs clung stubbornly to her sweat-beaded forehead, as she flung herself onto an akuma, knocking it bodily aside; He narrowed his eyes as he observed how she held the right side of her body rigid and taut, as if unable to put excess strain on it and making up for it by favoring her left side. Indeed, her right arm and leg were unmoving, and her uniform one dark stain. Perhaps the dark matter had dulled her nerves temporarily, or it was more lasting, perhaps even permanent damage?

She had always had a high sensitivity to pain and a low threshold of tolerance for it, and Komui was unable to even comprehend just how she must be feeling at the moment.

"Enough-it's enough. Don't push yourself, ok?" He whispered, the words dropping soundlessly from his numbed lips, willing her to hear and obey.

But she could not, and as telepathic as the siblings had seemed to others at times, Komui was perfectly aware that they lacked any such connection whatsoever and she would not hear him.

And then he set the piloting route onto a direction that was opposite from the direction his sister was in, purposefully never looking back. To temporary sanctuary, to where there would be a sufficient number of exorcists to provide defense for the time being until the personnel could be reassigned to different locations and branches.

If the attack had meant to decentralize the power and influence of the order, it had certainly been effective enough. To split his workforce up to other places around the globe would be the most logically sound idea, as to harbor such a large body of the most major people in a new area would make them too vulnerable to akuma attacks. To place individuals in a secure place like the Asia branch or Australian branch would prove much more safer, as those places had already established a certain degree of power in their regions.

However, on the other hand, Komui knew that spreading out their already meager human resources all over the globe meant thinning their effectiveness- allocating them to distant places would mean a very small, insignificant increase in power wherever they were assigned. The order personnel worked best together in a single unit, and incorporating them elsewhere would be next to useless, as there was only so much that a few people could do in any given area.

But that was what the Earl was after anyway, in the very end, wasn't it?

A scattered army with no leader in sight to organize them into a cohesive form able to fight was literally equal to hordes of men ready to die on their own. To divide and conquer had always been a favorite tactic; to disperse and pick them off one by one.

Hevlaska would have to reside with the admittedly capable Bak of the Asian Branch for a good while, the scientist realized grimly, as the innocence-keeping exorcist was the one exorcist that they would never be able to replace- or rather, in purely impersonal terms, it was his ability to hoard innocence that they could not afford to lose, not the exorcist himself.

The same went for all of them- the innocence's power, not the people themselves. It was never the exorcist that mattered in any case, but always everyone else. Or, as Komui amended himself again, what would _happen_ to everyone else if the exorcists were to die.

Komui knew that he himself would have to go elsewhere in Europe, with a select few staff. Vienna, Komui thought dully, would be a decent place, as there were three exorcists already stationed at the cathedral and another was well on his way. The Stephansdom was a large place, and could house his salvaged equipment and such.

It was considerably more dangerous, certainly, but he would have to be in a more accessible place to command the forces that were still in Europe- the continent could not be lost, even if the headquarters was destroyed. Moreover, the akuma attacks were centered in the area, and if he brought in additional force to aid the situation there, and cleared the area out, Europe could be retaken by starting out from there; The city was relatively at the heart of the continent.

In the transient process of finding a place to house headquarters, it could be first instituted at the city for the time being, before being moved to a safer location. The generals would have to be contacted to notify them that there was no longer a central European headquarters that they would be able to return to, and that if possible they report in person to him to receive new orders regarding the reorganization of the order.

Bak and the other heads of branches would also have to be contacted as well; Bak-chan whom was infatuated with Rinali just as she was in love with someone else.

In an infuriating accursed circle that never ended, all thoughts eventually led back to his sister whom was at the moment giving her all to what she believed in. He believed in what she was fighting for, knew that it was, at the very least to people like them, the right thing to do.

But Komui did not think that Rinali should die because of an unrealized, unproven set of idealistic morals and hopes for the future.

He did not think that any single one of them should die, whether it be exorcist or finder or scientist.

But they were their own enemy: fear, and fear led to them to lash out at a common enemy. And never could trust their own visions of what they were fighting for- whether or not it had just been some twisted convoluted plot all along, they never would know until the end.

A particularly loud explosion rocked the floor, and Miranda dropped the satchel of paraphernalia to activate her innocence. Komui ignored the bright glow of her anti-akuma weapon, and how time seemed to stand still, because he distinctly heard something within the sack shatter and break. He rooted through, and found that his bunny mug had a large crack running through the bottom to the rim.

An omen of sorts, he thought darkly, cradling the now useless crockery in his arms as if it were some precious object. But still, Komui had set the route of their vehicle, and there was no turning back, no seeing Rinali anymore on the monitor, his imouto Rinali with her lovely hair streaming in the sky and her burning dark eyes vehement and full of battle fire. He could not catch a single glimpse of her, and for a moment he thought that maybe he wouldn't want to anyway, since the blood on her dark boots diminished her innocent beauty by far.

_It's all about us  
It's all about love  
In you I can trust _

The monitor only could capture the frontal view, anyhow, he noted through blurring eyes. Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn't be able to see her anyway.

_It's all about us_


	31. The Second Law of Thermodynamics

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man.

A/N: APs are finally over, and so is the oral portion of the Spanish regents...not that I stand much of a chance in passing the listening and reading comprehension part though. My accent is horrible, so I think that my teacher was only being nice when he tested me and gave me a 24 out of 24. (He always favors the girls in the class, though...XD)

Well, enough of my digression and here's the long-awaited update...I wrote this the day after the AP chem exam, which sorta explains it. The total emo and thermodynamics and whatnot, that is.

(And for anyone who's wondering...no, Rinali's not dead. The very very subtly implied RinaliRabi in this chapter should sorta make up for it.)

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31. The Second Law of Thermodynamics

_Time had frozen, building an almost tangible cocoon of ice around her, outside of which the world ceaselessly moved on in its perpetual revolving around the sun. There was nothing else for Allen except for herself, the woman, and the locket that was clenched in the palm of her left hand. _

_Ruins- she had seen them before, and she was reduced to a tiny little shadow ghost of herself, wide-eyed and lonely and so small. So small in the great big world which seemed like any other, a world so much like her very own but yet was a place she wasn't entirely comfortable with. _

_And all of a sudden it was snowing, fluttering crystalline petals drifting down to land in icy cold shards within her heart, rendering whatever feelings that she had immobile and leaving her an abandoned husk devoid of any consciousness of what was happening. _

_A dreamscape of winter surrounded Allen, and if it were but a dream, the wind that blew was still terribly icy, and felt so real that she was nearly entirely convinced that it were entirely true. _

_The frozen crystals around her had a cold beauty, spiking and facing outwards as if warding off all intruders. And for a moment there, Allen could not help but wonder where she was, and what force had spirited her away to such a place._

_If it was hell, it was lovely and contained none of the burning flames that she had been led to believe. _

_It was not strange to her- the ruins of the past, tall and jagged buildings, all abandoned and nearly forgotten as the weeds of time and the weather ground it back to dust, dust that would sink back into the barren black depths of the lake. The viscous-looking, shining water reflected a dull moon of a lonesome, pearl-like sheen._

_However it was a lonely world, desperately so, and all at once familiar and unusual. Almost in shock, she recognized it all, felt it all, and knew that it was herself, not quite her physical body but rather a reflection. _

This is your own mind_, she told herself. _Turned inwards upon the innermost and saddest corners of your psyche, this is what you truly live in._ The shriveled trees were proof of lack of nurturing; and she could see the clouds twist in agony, crying bleeding flakes of snow. _

_Cold. It was cold! Freezing, numbing all, and if she stayed out here for any longer she figured she'd get frostbite. _

_Her exorcist's cloak was but paltry comfort in the face of such cold, it being a frost that came from within. It was cold, the chill from the woman's hand in the grip of her own. Having close physical contact with death itself sent numbness seeping into her skin, infected by the horror of it. _

_It was contagious, drawing her deeper into a decaying shell that was no barrier against everything she wanted desperately to be protected against, and everything that Mana had told her bluntly about; of sin and beauty and hope and the dead, dead shadow of hopelessness that encased the spirit like a tomb. _

This is what you live in, and this is your cage. Some figment of your imagination, perhaps at the moment, but this is what you are and what you will see eventually. This is what you do not want, what you absolutely cannot let happen- you have always hated the cold anyway hated to shovel the snow always wanted Mana to hold you tight when he came home and build the fire up big since the glow would warm your little hands.

_And then, with a jerk, it was all gone, and she was left wondering stupidly and dazedly what had just happened. Like a bystander at some scenic accident, morbidly interested and attentive in a horrified, numbed way. _

It was easy to be desensitized, she thought with a faint smile. It felt free.

And the exorcist realized that nightmares were scarier when they happened in real life, as she found herself kneeling on a cold chapel floor damp and slippery with blood.

And yet, Allen Walker could not bring herself to let go of the dead woman's hand, even though the other's skin was clammy and limp, and the necklace bequeathed to her as a dying wish clumsily accepted and in the tight hold of her other hand.

The deadness did not leave her, and the exorcist barely registered strong hands roughly shaking her shoulders as her eyes stared incomprehensibly forward in an unseeing view.

Her disabled, unfeeling state continued, and she blankly noticed that someone had a vise-like, unrelenting grip upon her arm, and tried to lift her to her feet. It was then that the numbness faded a little, but the empty feeling in the middle of her chest did not leave, and with panic she realized that someone was trying to separate her from the woman.

"No. Stop it!" She muttered inaudibly, squirming feebly. "You can't do this."

She clung to the woman's cold hand, ignoring the attempts to rip it away from her grasp. Things that she could not understand flashed in a grotesque, blurry phantom-like set of shadows before her- a body bag, red hair, and hands. She gripped the woman's hand tighter, as if it were a lifeline.

"Beansprout-chan. Let go. She's dead now, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Allen blinked owlishly at the concerned, familiar voice which was yet not very familiar because of the sadness in it. "…Rabi?"

"It's ok now, Allen. She's gone."

"It can't be, not yet. She was alright just a few hours ago, so she…she can't."

It sounded juvenile and absolutely idiotic to her ears, and she nearly cringed in thinking about what Rabi might have thought when he heard it. Allen was not beyond reason, and she knew that her logic in that had been quite off and stupid, that she had underestimated the frailties of a human life.

But yet, a childishly weak part of her begged for comfort, lingering still in denial. Her brain had been reduced to mush, and she immediately felt the rest of her liquidating in correspondence, her eyes starting to become a little too moist for comfort.

And then he had seized her arm, disregarding all protests and completely ignoring her faint cries for him to stop. Allen caught her already bleeding lower lip in between her teeth to keep it from trembling as Rabi began half dragging, half carrying her off.

Sometimes it was just easier to give in, although if she was in a better state of mind she would have hated herself for thinking that. Allen allowed the redhead to lead her, him keeping a hand firmly clamped on the back of her neck so she wouldn't turn her head.

She knew that it was well meant so that she would not be able to see people dying, but it hurt her, his grip being a notch too tight. Just thinking about the possibility of death was enough to rattle her, let alone see it placed right in front of her disbelieving eyes, with no barriers to shield her from the damage it would wreak on her highly emotional heart.

She did not fully regain her bearings until they were a good distance away from the wails of the mourning and sitting in a chapel. Almost confusedly, Allen stared at the sticky hot liquid beading in her palm, where the gilded decorative edges lining the edge of the locket had cut deeply into her skin. The pale golden metal came away stained with the dull crimson of her blood and she stared at it transfixed, almost hypnotized by the sight of the darkness on pale skin.

She heard the faint pleasant crinkle of a paper bag, and something warm was shoved into her other hand, so suddenly that she nearly dropped it. Allen looked questioningly at the crispy pastry that she held, which smelled heavenly and sweet, with a hint of spice accenting the scent. It was similar to that of apples, the light fruity fragrance filling her nostrils and calming her by far. Allen, biting into it, conveniently forgot about the fact that eating in chapel was not permitted and almost considered sacrilege in such a holy place.

"It's called _Apfelstrudel._ Apple strudel, basically. Remember, it's famous here." Rabi explained, his eye strangely soft and weary. Allen noticed the darkened creases under his one eye, and a distinct heaviness that was unusual for him settled upon his usual more upbeat mood. "that little girl…I was giving last rites to her…she said that her mom made the best ones. Added cinnamon and served them pipin' hot. She was delirious, feverish from infection of her injury. Good thing I guess she was, since the pain would have been less for her…"

His voice rose a pitch higher, and cracked noticeably, his distress obvious. " My God, she was only eight." He choked out. "Only eight! I'm _eighteen_- that's ten years older than she was, and why couldn't she live to at least that much if I can?! It's not fair!"

A horrible thought from her childhood surfaced from Allen's mind, suddenly springing from sorrow and causing all the emotions swirling within her to convulse. The world was not fair- fairness was merely an excuse for the weak, whom needed some sort of self-justification that would explain away and alleviate their petty little jealousies and guilts.

Not fair. Heh. Laughable, the way she so harped on it.

"Rabi…" Allen watched his still boyish face twist into a heartbreaking variety of different expressions, and he quickly turn his eyes away, as if ashamed and mortified. His broad shoulders were shaking under his cloak, and his teeth gritted against the sorrow that threatened to conquer him from within.

His expression finally broke, all the barriers and walls tumbling down, as well as tears, dripping sadly from his one eye to soak into the wood chapel bench they sat on. Allen never would have thought that clever, dependable Rabi who had just before supported her would be in need of comforting himself as well.

"Goddammit! Why?!" With that condemnation, Rabi punched the bench, his fist driving cleanly through the wood and coming back out with splinters lodged in his skin. However, he did not seem to have felt the pain, all physical sensations being crushed by the emotional ones.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck it all!" Rabi was literate in many languages, as fitting to his broad education as a future bookman, and he was perfectly capable of wielding his linguistic abilities to convey his emotions.

"Rabi! Stop it, please. This is a church-"

But even then, eternal damnation for easting strudel and voicing obscenities in such a sacrilegious way on holy property was not something that she cared much about at the moment, since the expression on Rabi's face was the only thing that was important, she empathizing with the same pain that was so familiar to her.

Hurt. It hurt, and the other exorcist was clutching his cloak to himself in a white-knuckled, deathlike grip, simultaneously wresting with the cloth as he did to his inner emotions.

Allen's eyes widened in bitter understanding. Her heart hurt as well, as she saw her friend in the throes of emotional pain, and she did not want anyone else to feel the agonizing guilt that had dominated her life, the shadow of it cutting across her every breath and drawing in a sense of dread that she could never rid herself of.

How every heartbeat, every breath she took seemed to be some sort of privilege unearned and that should be taken away at any moment.

The incorrigible redhead was a close friend, almost _family_ in a sense as the exorcists were all bound by the same duty as apostles, their gradually formed friendships inevitable because of presenting the united defensive front against the same enemy. Brothers stood together, shoulder to shoulder, but not too together as to prevent frail male egos clashing and embarrassing themselves for the closeness that simply was not normal for two men to share. As accordingly, Allen felt that it was almost sacred, a side of Rabi that she had never had the right to see, and something that must have been very hard for him to express.

"Rabi…"

"I know. Shit, I know damn well that all those people didn't deserve to die too. Kingsley-chan- what are we gonna tell Edmund? His mom died? You can't say that to a little kid's face, you just can't..."

Rabi was crying, one hand cupped over his mouth as if he was embarrassed to be caught in such a moment of weakness. Strong, hard gasps racked his well-built frame, and Allen watched on helplessly.

Her friend was in pain and she was at a loss as for what to do, especially so as not to further injure his male pride which was probably already bruised badly from displaying such 'weak' emotions and the inability to protect someone he was meant to protect, as an exorcist- the failing at his job would be the worst blow.

If he had been a girl or at the least a little kid, the white-haired exorcist would have embraced him and told him that it was all right. Being her reckless self, she impulsively but hesitantly pulled him into a hug, her arms wrapping awkwardly and barely around his bigger, well-muscled body, and drawing him close. Feeling the sobbing shudders of his body against her own, and feeling the same pain shake her as it did him.

She had never felt so hopeless as she did now, as she was expected to become the strong one when she herself was crying silently from within. At the moment, Allen was unconcerned if her breast-bindings were too loose and Rabi got suspicious, since all that mattered to her at the moment was to comfort Rabi, someone who was one of her precious, sadly few friends whose companionship she would always cherish. She knew it was an almost maternal, feminine way of giving consolation, but she did not think Rabi would object.

And he didn't, leaning his tousled red-haired head down on her shoulder and weeping bitterly in a fashion that was like that of a small child who did not comprehend the cruelty of the world, and who wanted nothing but someone to hold him to gently soothe all the fears, all the worries away.

Mana Walker had done that for her, when she was a little girl who was screamed at and called a monster by ignorant people whom saw nothing but her disfigured arm.

And now, Allen still remembered, although it was naught but a dim fading memory, of how a gentle touch was able to banish all sorrow, and make the tears and pain all go away. What Mana did, she wanted to do for Rabi.

Her already bruised lower ribs strained from the extra weight, and the exorcist tried to no avail to bite back her pained yelp. Quiet as it was, Rabi immediately withdrew as if she was a venomous snake, muttering several self-conscious, discomforted apologies as she tried to do at the exact same time for her daring.

It was fine for girls to comfort each other and cry along, but Allen had nearly forgotten in the entirety of things that Rabi was not a girl in any case and would probably be offended.

"It's alright. Thanks." Rabi said, with a sigh and wiping his eyes roughly with his headband, and when that was saturated, the back of his hand.

"No problem." Trying to sound as if nothing had happened, and failing miserably as well, Allen hid her anxiety by gnawing on her strudel.

"It's ironic isn't it? Life, I mean."

"What's so ironic about it?" Allen believed it to be straightforwardly cruel and harsh, throwing mere babes into the world and making them jaded weary adults whom had during the process of growing up become disillusioned and devoid of the innocence they had used to possess as children. The world had corrupted them.

" 'And Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens the works of thine hands: they shall perish; but Thou remainest; And they all shall wax old as doth a garment; and as a vesture shalt thou fold them up, and they shall be changed: but thou art the same, and thy years shall not fail.'"

"Um, come again?" Allen frowned at the quote that Rabi had voiced in an emotionlessly cold recitation, even as she recognized it as verbatim from the Bible.

"Hebrews 1:10-12." Rabi told her passively, taking a strudel for himself out of the paper bag and biting into it. "Ol' Panda made me do Bible passages when I was younger. This one always stuck in my mind, y'know."

"It's pretty…morbid."

"Life's morbid. Nothing remains forever- the only fate is death." Rabi said. "Everything will sooner or later come to an end- health, wealth, love and life. Interesting isn't it. After all, all things in a given system will eventually tend towards a condition of entropy, or disorder. Second law of thermodynamics," He added, for her information.

Then suddenly, "It's not news to you is it?...You know you're going to die someday."

"I know." She clarified. "Someday, sometime."

She knew that all too well, even though the dark dank fear still gripped her heart from time to time in its cold tight clutches. Sudden irrational bursts of panic that she was given to, in the lonesome night when there was little else to do than to cower in the depths of her bedsheets and wrap herself tight. Pretend as if it were strong dependable arms holder her tight, protecting her- but her own body warmth was cold and insufficient.

There was no human warmth or emotion in death- not _feeling_ was worse than anything else.

Not being able to live was the thing she feared the most, not a painful death. She could care less if she was crucified on a cross of her own building, but without humanity she would be truly dead and hopeless. Masochistic as it sounded-Pain was real, as was sorrow.

Allen finished her strudel, and brushed the crumbs off. Rabi was talking of something beyond her knowledge, although she had grasped the rudimentary basics of what he was saying. Master Cross had never had been fond of science, which was why the basic curriculum he had pushed on her had contained only the most condensed forms of chemistry and physics that was absolutely mandatory to know.

"The universe is heading to an eventual state of death, is that what it is?"

"Bingo. And no matter what we do in our lives, there's nothing to avoid it." Rabi pointed out, index finger raised. "Second-" He put up his middle finger in addition. "- every single person will die. It doesn't matter if they're evil or good. And lastly, not everyone who dies deserves to. Not really fair is it."

It sounded more to her like a statement than a question, and Allen knew that he was waiting for her to agree with him, prove his bitterness correct and flaring alive in her own soul.

She wouldn't. Prove it, that was. Not to his face when she knew he was so right.

"I see what you mean, but it is a natural part of life, to replenish the cycle and prevent overpopulation. But I don't like it, Rabi, I don't like it at all." The white-haired exorcist whispered. She closed her eyes, and clutched the locket against her heart; the metal was still warm, from another person's body heat, and she could feel consolation emanating from it.

"Don't tell me that that is what was running through your mind when you lost your precious person- the one whom you called father."

Her precious person- dully, with so little reaction that she nearly surprised herself, she wondered just how much Rabi knew of her past, and just what he was referring to. Bookmen knew much more than what were in history tomes, after all, and made it their business to know everything. Allen would never put it past either Bookman nor Rabi to go about snooping in memories best left forgotten; However it made her feel so, so lonesome, that someone whom she called friend was potentially someone whom could just as easily betray her secret as he grinned.

She detected a warning note of curiosity coloring his voice, something that was not completely rare for the normally good-natured redhead, and decided not to press the issue lest he decide to inquire further and phrase it in such a way that she would have no choice but to give a blatant lie which he would easily see through.

"Um…pardon me?"

"Y'know, Beansprout-chan, I don't like it either…by the way, was that Kingsley-chan's necklace?"

"Yeah." Allen paused a little, before saying, "She gave it to me. Don't ask me why, I don't know." She quickly added before anything could be misunderstood.

The redhead looked pensive, his one eye staring at her shrewdly, still teary and sad. "She thought you looked like her daughter, I guess. Maybe she wanted to believe that that was who you were."

"I think she accepted me for who I am, Allen Walker, and not as Elena."

"Perhaps."

The answer was noncommittal, and just vague enough for the exorcist to ponder whether or not the bookman apprentice had given it a more enigmatic meaning. Think outside of the box, as people said, but that adage was as overused and clichéd- quite contrary to what it warned against. But then again, there never _was_ even a box when Rabi was concerned, since he was just..._Rabi_, for lack of a better description.

Allen fidgeted on the hard seat, a little uneasy about the proximity of his being. A question burned unrelentingly in her mind, something that she had always wanted to ask when they had arrived in Austria and Ms. Kingsley had brought up her daughter's story. "Um…Rabi?" she asked tentatively. "Can I ask you something?"

"By all means, do." Rabi blew his nose loudly.

"Am I…am I a lot like a girl? I mean, if she thought that I was her daughter…" Allen trailed off, not without the realization that she sounded so without conviction nor with a shred of any credibility at all. It were as if there was some delicate matter that she was trying to hide. Deceit, deception, secrets- it was all lingering in the open, if only he would see it with that single eye of his. A single wager that she would gladly take- she understood risk well- just because she wanted, no, needed, to know.

Rabi stared at her, and she squirmed under the hard gaze, which seemed to penetrate to the core of her being and lay open her flesh to the bone, baring all secrets. But as it was, he gave a sigh and looked away. Irritably, he tore off the headband he usually fastened his hair away from his eyes with, letting the red strands freely drape across his face to conceal his expression.

"How do I put it…" He mumbled.

"So _do_ I?"

"Yeah. A bit like a girl. I meant you look really lil' and skinny- or maybe that's the fact the cloak is too big for you. But that's ok, you'll grow bigger later. I think. Fifteen's not when we stop growing for us men. I was a bit of a shrimp when I was your age." He hastily amended at the shocked look on her face.

"Do I act like one?" Allen muttered, crestfallen and already thinking of ways she could salvage her disguise and act more like a male. As it was, even after so many years of dressing as a boy, her masquerade was faulty and could easily be ripped apart by the deductions of an everyday observer. But then again Rabi was no ordinary observer, being the unusually clever and watchful person that he was. Nothing missed the scrutiny of his one eye, which was as skilful at drawing reason as it was for peeping.

"There isn't really any definition for 'acting like a girl,' Beansprout-chan. I mean, look at _Chief Jerry_." Rabi remarked. "So let go of your notions of set gender roles and behaviors, they don't really_ exist_."

"Point taken." She never was really sure whether Chief Jerry possessed an extra x chromosome or he was simply gay. Either was possible given his strangely effeminate, maternal behavior towards all order personnel that came to the brink of being uncomfortably touchy-feely. Uncomfortable as she had been around him at first, after a week or two of staying at the headquarters, the initial surprise had worn away to a mild acceptance of someone that the world would love to hate.

"Though it'd be pretty nice if you were a girl. Those female exorcist uniforms are _hot-_ I mean, look at _Rinali_. You'd look great in one, that was if you had the boobs to carry it off with…Yuu-chan'll be scared _witless_." Rabi amended, too quickly.

There it was again, the false metallic quality to his tone, like the iron of a sword which edge was away from her. He didn't mean it at all. He sounded too perverted, too cheerful, too unlike the Rabi whom only looked at women and nothing else. And the well-read Rabi would normally see fit to utilize a much broader vocabulary, all-too-plebian adjectives like 'hot' be damned.

Somehow what he said struck deeply, and made her even sadder. It was not the content of the words, but more along the lines of how he said it. Allen could not help but detect a sort of infantilizing, playful gentleness in his voice, as if he were trying to distract her from her emotions.

She didn't miss in the slightest how it was more of a fake cheer that Rabi expressed, and how any lascivious thoughts of his seemed overly buoyant and out of place. He was being false to her face- both surprising and disturbing her at the same time since he always seemed to be so perpetually honest with her.

"Rabi...you...nevermind." The exorcist mumbled darkly.

Never telling the entire truth to her, perhaps, but she had been so sure that the redhead would never lie to her or deceive her in any way, no matter the circumstances. Rabi with all his sly understated braininess was not a person whom would warp the truth to his own purposes, although she certainly wouldn't put misleading other people past him.

But he was male after all- so male, even so much more when they were sitting so close. Too disgusted with the idea, the white-haired exorcist completely missed the fleeting, wistful look on the redhead's face at the comparison with Rinali. Silent, and disappearing suddenly, it had passed across his face for a single moment in a rare show of deep, heartfelt emotion.

For some reason, Rinali's many awe-striking, gravity-defying, aerobatic, impossible maneuvers never had caused any wardrobe malfunctions that Allen was ever aware of. Wearing a skirt like that required skill, and even more so in an occupation which required the one to be highly mobile and agile for the sake of keeping one's life. Unfortunately, she was more than certain that she lacked that sort of ability, being already incompetent enough in just _pants_. Allen gulped, as of all things to wear, a miniskirt was on her lowest list of priorities. As for Rabi to comment on her diminutive stature immediately qualifying her to look good in a dress, she just wanted to simply disappear.

He'd never know how close he was to hitting the mark.

"But it's ok…some girls like their guys a little less masculine. No, really I'm not insulting you…I just mean a little more slender and sensitive-"

Allen snorted.

"Alright, late-blooming-"

Allen snickered.

"-and not cute at all." Rabi deadpanned.

"Hey. Speak for yourself."

With their deceptively light banter, it was almost as if the world was once more revolving again, all the pieces coming back to normal.

But how could life just go on, even if someone died?

- the light streaming through the stained glass chapel window was multi-colored, all the colors in the spectrum. All of the hues melding into a single collective body of light, pure and white like the snow that fell within her own soul. Untouchable and frozen there in time.

But the world would never stop for Allen and those whom had occupied her innocent little sphere, people whom existed if only a moment as victims of just one more akuma she failed to protect them from.

The sun was no doubt a warm color behind the clouds through which the light filtered through. And she knew once more that she was so small, affected by what was in front of her horrified eyes, and never turning her gaze to a greater picture. The outside sky was a brilliant blue; it was as if a massacre had never taken place at all.

Allen fidgeted; brought her hands to her chest and toyed with the necklace. The habit was catching, the metal feeling so reassuringly cold underneath her fingertips. But when she attempted to flick the catch to the locket open, it refused to budge. She eyed it suspiciously, but was too mentally exhausted to do anything more. Breaking it apart was nearly sacrilegious in its own right, as it had been entrusted to her.

It didn't matter. Emotionally, she was a coward, running away from any feeling that hurt. The woman was nothing to her. Only a stranger, only a stranger, only a stranger….As much as she could repeat it over and over, as if the perpetual words would eventually cause her to believe in their meaning, she could not help but feel as if it was all empty.

Besides, if that woman- she couldn't bring herself to say her name- meant nothing to her, why were the tears swimming in her eyes and her heart hurting so? It pounded the same taunting rhythm in an insane repetition, to mock her being alive, reminding her of her loss, her failure as an exorcist. What would get it to stop?-Allen did not want its constant reminder.

And then suddenly, a dark cloak and a chiding voice arose from the bleakness she was casting herself into, interrupting all thoughts and forcing herself to blankly give her attention to yet another distraction from her misery.

"So…has the crying fest ended yet?" A disgusted male voice echoed out from the shadows of the decorative pillars in the church. "If so, I have urgent word from the order."

"Yuu-chan..." Rabi muttered, standing up wearily. "Now what? Did Crowley get ambushed or something when coming?"

"Hn. Far worse." Said exorcist favored them with a haughty but exhausted glare, looking as if he swallowed a lemon. "Reinforcements are the last thing the order can afford to send out at the moment."

Kanda cut a ridiculous figure with a sticky-fingered child awkwardly clinging off his cloak. Had it been any other time and any other place, she would have laughed out loud at the pinched expression of loathing upon his face, which may or may not have been attributed to whatever bad news he had recently came to know of.

Big long-lashed blue eyes, a near identical mirror of her own, were the first features that she spotted on the little boy, and after that the flaxen-gold hair, looking soft as corn silk and so much like _hers- _so unmentionable, unforgivable a woman even in death. Allen's own eyes widened, seeing in flesh-and-blood a link to whom she might have been as a person if she had not been Allen Walker in the first place.

It was finally tangible and physical proof that she could no longer deny, not when it was right in front of her eyes, but it was only now that she heeded what it could possibly mean for her and her deception; This child- Edmund, was something else to her. She wouldn't dare call it family, but perhaps she could always wish.

In the end, all Allen could do was bend down and open her arms. The child came running to her, with only the slightest bit of hesitation, to seek the awaiting warm embrace. And she held him close, both rocking in the shared sorrow that only the two of them could possibly understand.

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A/N: Thanks for reading, and please review as usual.

Btw, does anyone know what anti-akuma weapons the exorcist generals use? I'm thinking of introducing them into the fic in the next chapter or so. To be specific, Cross, Tiedeur, and Cloud Nine. I don't think I'm ready to write Winters yet.


	32. The Uncertainty Principle

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man.

A/N: Finally back- just took my final regents, American History today. So hopefully I'll update more. Well, this chapter has a bit of plot development (or rather a bit of backstory) and introduces Cross & co., so please let me know if the generals are ooc- Cross's an especially hard character to write. As is Bookman- I think it's the first time I've really wrote from his pov as well. I wanted to write a sarcastic and slightly funny Cross, with quite a lot of introspection on his part...but it's not coming out the way I'd want it to. So please R+R and let me know.

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Ch. 32  
The Uncertainty Principle

_General Cross pov:_

There was nothing like a glass of red wine.

Vodka, branch-and-water, beer, sake, tequilas, gin, rum, whiskey and all sorts of sundry assorted liquors could not hope to compare.

The perfect accessory, the thin long stem so delicately yet firmly held- clasped sexily between long gloved fingers, and perfectly shaped for one to curl the rest of one's hand around the glass basin. Ladies liked strong men whom also happened to be classy, and there was no better way to prove his endurance and wealth by spending fortunes on drink.

Absinthe was the thinking man's drink, but wine was elegance incarnate, the deep redness of it dark and sweet and sultry and the color of passion, seeping nicely into his bones as he drank it.

Alcohol was a narcotic of sorts, but no matter how hazy he was it would never been enough to dull pain for him or reality in front of his eyes. Which was why Allen shouldn't have always blamed him for the immensity of the bills he racked up at bars- it would only be an impossible amount of wine coupled with a woman that could possibly bring him peace, if only temporarily.

But wine certainly was enough to loosen his inhibitions, although he wasn't exactly quite sure he had been born with any at all- He certainly had always had a way with women and was blunt and almost careless with other people. The alcohol made his stomach melt in its toxic heat every time, bubbling up as if he held secrets inside his body.

Every so often, the carriage wheels ran over a rut or two, causing the intoxicating liquid to ripple and splash within the flute; liberally, with deliberate slowness, Master Cross took small measured sips. Slow as if the carriage would move just as slowly towards the one place where he never wanted to be again.

The wine was not seasoned long enough or well enough for his very much cultured tastes, but he supposed that it was adequate giving that it was hard finding good liquor while on the move. And it had certainly been quite a task convincing the other two exorcist-generals whom formed the remainder of his unhappy little traveling party to place jugs of wine in the trunk along with their luggage.

With his drink in one hand and his head propped lazily in the other, it was his favorite pose in which he was sitting in, as well as the most comfortable for him- the ride was a good day's journey with little rest in between and few if any stops.

An entire day and at the very least one confrontation with hordes of akuma every two hours. It would suffice to say that he wasn't in the best of moods, and even wine could do little to cheer him up.

A day of riding and fighting had done horrors to his sleeping habits, throwing them awry and forcing him to power-nap in short intervals in between attacks. Going twenty-four hours without sleeping would normally be fine for him, but he had stayed up the entire night just before as well, for the purpose of drinking some more. His shirt hadn't been changed in just as long a duration, and thusly was still stained with dust and sweat from battle, but it was a small price to pay for the necessity of speed.

They had received the orders to reconnaissance the area the week before, and had been called to rendezvous at the headquarters- spontaneous and abrupt, with little more than two curt words.

_Come. Back._

Short, to the point, but not sweet in the very slightest. After all, it was as comprehensible as a drunken General Winters, and was vague to the point that Cross felt not very inclined to even bother obeying it.

Moreover, returning to the dank dungeon of a tower that most exorcists morbidly called home was not very high on his list of priorities- not that he actually possessed one, since spontaneity usually dictated his lifestyle.

The higher-ups had always been derisive of his coolly infuriating and aplomb manner and his womanizing habits had made himself less than endearing to them as well. Impulsive conduct was not fitting for a general like him, they insisted in their whining choruses of disapproval while at the time docking his pay.

It was _conformity_ that the Headquarters stood for- conformity being the uniform grey gothic-inspired spires of the architecture; the solid blocks of black and white on the uniform as if everything in life was so clear-cut; the suicidal approach to exorcism based off a need to accomplish one's duty; and last but not least the stifling morbidity that was inescapable.

The order was where the 'Purpose' was concentrated, being the center where the 'forces of good' -or whatever pansy euphemism it was- convened in their shared cause. Such a close-knit system of self-righteous troops created dependence, and dependence was never a good thing when at any moment something could go wrong or someone can break.

He would have thought that the entire affair with Suman Dark had been enough of an example as to what the circumstances were when an exorcist went astray. Moreover, while morals and all that bullcrap that the Order was so intent on feeding it employees were all very well for brainwashing, humansactually_ thought_ for themselves.

And that, was what made them so dangerous in the very end.

Free thought- the thought processes of everyday, normal people were not quite so extreme as anarchy, but it would be close enough to make authorities nervous.

People with power wouldn't be nervous though if they didn't know what they were doing was wrong.

Now, that said more than he needed to be told about the Order.

Humans were...stupid. Although they _were_ born with a conscience and a willingness to use it, which made humans above all the other lesser creatures that populated God's earth. Although Cross had met some very intelligent animals in his time, and then some more not very intelligent ones.

And thusly the shared cause of exorcising akuma was only a shared cause, until one stopped believing it and then it would lose all power of captivity that it would have otherwise had over a person's intellect.

Not that Cross was exactly very fond of the way the clergy had always went about things- the procedures and formalities and organisation he could do without, and a single akuma was really all one needed for exorcism to be executed.

What was more pressing a concern other than the welfare of an authority that he disliked was the imminent fact that he hadn't been laid in about three days, and was getting severely frustrated with his lack of female companionship.

Three days was twenty-four times three hours, and that was an eternity for him, he whom was accustomed to having women hanging off him all the time.

Unfortunately, there was no plain way in sight that would allow him to relieve his stress, nor was it possible to at the very least project all his anger upon some other unfortunate person. Those person(s) namely being his companions...

…The fact that he was traveling with two other exorcists whom were not very conversationally inclined made everything even the more tedious- he was not wont to talk very much, but his companions were dead silent.

'Dead meaning' the sort of morbid silence one would expect from a desolate and decrepit graveyard that none of the human population bothered to frequent anymore.

On the very rare occasion, Cross would hear a soft, ill-concealed sniffle from across; to his left, and too uncomfortably near, a most disturbing humming from a senile elderly person whom was a little too obsessed with art for his own good.

Otherwise, there was nothing but the all-too-audible rumbling of the carriage creaking on its worn wheels and the constant and irritating scratching of a charcoal pencil on rough-toothed paper- thick black carbon on thick grainy white.

Tiedeur had worked on the sketch for a very long time, and the seemingly aimless cross-hatched strokes and smudges had yet to resemble something or the other. It was just Cross wasn't quite sure what that something or the other would happen to be.

Discreetly, Cross stared over, just as the furious scribbling and scratching got louder. The noise was directly proportional to whatever inspiration that struck the general- Tiedeur always sketched even more furiously when he was grasped by a sudden wave of creative stimulus.

At the moment whatever he was working on looked like a plate of dango, but certainly it wouldn't take so long to draw so simple-looking a snack. Perhaps a boat then? With huge blobby sails. General Cross thought it no better than any one of Timcanpi's random attempts at producing artwork.

_Scratch. _

_...ckkkk. Ckkk. _The sound of calloused fingertips smoothing and brushing out grainy strokes in different values of shading.

_Scraaatch-scratch! _

Snapping Tiedeur's confounded pencil seemed like an excellent option to the by now irate redheaded general, a very nice one that would easily be justified as him rescuing the remnants of his sanity.

Cross had actually considered that for the better portion of their first hour (and his first bottle of wine) on the road, but had dismissed the notion with a tinge of regret. After all, the sweet-tempered Tiedeur was one of the few men whom did not hold a grudge against him in one way or another as most men tended to be.

Cross supposed that he wouldn't be able to blame them, because after all their girlfriends and wives and fiancées all seemed to spontaneously and inevitably drift in his direction.

It was needless to say that he himself could not actually be blamed for that either, but alas, beautiful people like him were always persecuted in one way or another by less-fortunate people whom were blinded with the thick veil of jealousy and pettiness.

God loved the good, crushed the evil, but He almost never protected the beautiful.

Cross sighed, and sullenly sipped his wine again, glancing ever so often out the half-curtained window in little fits of impatience. It was immature- a phrase that he often used to described his young protégé- to be so restless, but the gnawing feeling that accompanied his reluctant decision to return to the order simply continued to chew away at his intestines, making the meager lunch they had scraped together a hard lump inside his stomach.

Or maybe it was just indigestion. He couldn't cook, having relied on Allen for too long, and Tiedeur couldn't either, and neither of them were too inclined to ask the one one who could, Cloud Nine, to.

In the end, meal duty went to Cloud Nine's monkey, which did an admittedly decent, if lackluster, job.

Three exorcist-generals traveling in the same carriage was an incredibly dumb thing to do, and beyond the limits of stupidity that even he thought would be impossible for the exorcists' order, with all its self-righteous fogies, to transgress.

Cross was certain that in any other situation, he would have just abandoned the other two generals and high-tailed it back to the smoky streets of New York with its sultry divas and hothouse heiresses, but current events had him obediently, if a bit sullenly, following orders.

His eye slowly cut over from the window to across his seat, where General Cloud Nine was primly perched, hands folded in her lap- a startlingly demure and youthful position for such a person of distinction, but he had always hoarded the sneaking suspicion that she was formerly of well-bred pedigree blood and had received the training of a fine noblewoman.

And no, General Cloud Nine did not count as a woman in his eyes.

She was, after all, a colleague whom deserved more respect than what he was willing to give any woman in a relationship that was based purely on physical attraction. And even then, only half of her face looked good. The other half was a tangle of thick rope-like scars, slicing through high cheekbones and marring what would have been quite pretty in the past. It was quite a pity, though.

Other championed jewels of womankind held their nicely-coiffed heads high with dignity, but the tender-hearted Cloud Nine _was_ dignity itself embodied as a living thing, composed and rational even in her grief, her face half obscured by a softly falling curtain of hair.

She had been in a rigid state for the entirety of the ride, eyes unseeing and dead to the world, turning inwards to deeper hurts. Head set in what looked to be an uncomfortably tall position, she was quietly steadfast and proud-looking in the austere Grecian manner of marble statues, one slender white hand resting on the amber fur of her monkey. Her burning eyes were closed in half-slumber, half-alertness.

Unseeing to all, except for the vision of her students falling one after the other to their fates, all three mercilessly killed in the line of duty that nobody else but they could do.

He was certainly glad that whatever she was feeling she kept to herself; Cross never could stand crying females- didn't know whether to shake them or slap them silly or give them a few awkward pats on the head, but he had never opted for any one of the choices since women were never very partial to being touched like that when they were in the throes of some horrible emotion or the other.

Only God and Timcanpi knew only how many times he had been slapped by some wench whom had been utterly desolate at his dumping her.

Nine's monkey for once was quiet and well behaved, being asleep. Cross reasoned that it was the several flutes of wine that he had force-fed it that did the trick to shutting the little beast up; after all it had always worked before on his idiot disciple, which possessed, in his opinion, around the same mental capabilities of the monkey. And cooking talent, certainly.

Of course, said idiot disciple could have gotten very well on under Cloud Nine's gentle and undemanding tutelage. Hers was the hand of velvet- Idealism, kindness, hair/skin/nails, strength training, and last but not least The Dreaded Talk were all subjects that the capable female general could easily cover, and because she was a woman she could do more for Allen than he himself could ever hope to do.

After all, it was impossible for Cross to impart all his womanizing qualities to a self-righteous disciple whom also happened to be female, straight, and quite disapproving of what she considered morally corrupt behavior, with all her proud upholding of standards that he felt were ridiculously impractical in the first place.

But she was a little idiot, her eyes too expressive in its entire spectrum of feelings and her heart so blatantly displayed on a sleeve for every other person to shred apart at will. His disciple was also scared to death of him, but he had always attributed it to her unlovable tendencies.

Uncute with her idealistic notions- naiveté was perfectly fine for a normal fifteen year old schoolgirl with her schoolgirl uniform and no other worries other than boy problems and tomorrow's tests; but for a fifteen year old exorcist wearing a Rose Cross and bearing the responsibility of saving the world it was downright disgraceful, if not disgusting.

But all the same, while he did figure that perhaps Allen would have been much better off as Cloud Nine's student, there was one drawback: if she had been, she would have been dead at the moment.

Shot dead by the akuma bullets and lying in an order-standardized coffin with a white sheet drawn over a young and broken and formerly vibrant body. Buried in a ceremony with much pomp and fuss and feathers but little real meaning- as Cloud Nine's three disciples had been last month.

The sole female general was holding up well, for one whom was unaccustomed to sorrow on such a close and personal level. Cross knew that it was the first time she had lost any of her students, because she was fiercer than a mother hawk in watching over her charges, and let it be said that no-one whomsoever had ever died when on her watch in all her five years of being appointed general.

However, five years were merely five years, and five years was but green and sorely lacking in the experience that might have kept her students alive.

No hysterical and frantic sobbing; it was much more understated and sorrowful a storm, that cut all the deeper in its restrained emotion. It was merely stray tears hither and thither, glistening like abandoned and sadly twinkling diamonds on ravaged skin.

So lonely and sad that it nearly made Cross want to throw up all the alcohol that he had ingested for the past few days, because he knew that at one point in his life he did know what it was like to feel that way, defeated and bitter and knowing that yes, he would have and could have saved _them_.

Allen wasn't his first disciple, but was merely the first to live for so long.

They were all just children, Allen and the countless other past entities whom had ironed his clothes, poured his wine, and brought home paychecks for him to squander. Names and faces were things that he had started to forget over time because there were just too many boys and too many akuma for them to fight and deaths that they all had disappeared as quietly as they had lived.

And then he had taken in a girl, and wondered if sugar and spice and everything nice would enable her to live as long.

A little girl was…_different_ from a little boy, and that was about all he could say about it.

"You're thinking, aren't you?" Rough and soft with age, Tiedeur's voice was quiet and pleasant and a welcome change from his tuneless rendition of old English airs.

"Aa-" Cross growled, and decided that he would be better off making conversation before the tone-deaf exorcist returned to butchering 'London Bridge' in an irritatingly loud, repetitive, off-key voice.

"-Of how purely _idiotic_ this entire… _affair_ is and of why all three of our presences would be required. The damned nitwits in the big black robes whom determine our insufficient wages apparently weren't thinking straight- I hate that place."

It certainly didn't help matters that the last time he was present at headquarters was for the purpose of attending the execution of a traitor whom really wasn't a traitor whom ended up not being executed at all.

"Ah, our superiors never are." Tiedeur sounded neutral and kind as ever, but it was as close as Cross had ever heard him insult authority. "But that isn't what you are thinking of, no?"

"To a certain extent, of course."

Perhaps his tone was too even, because he saw a beatific smile spread across the older man's face, although there was no knowing mockery in it. Cross's lazy eye narrowed slightly, sensing something more. Tiedeur was sensitive to others, and talking about students in the presence of Nine whom had recently lost hers would normally be something he would avoid.

"Your disciple Allen- the boy is a remarkable exorcist, no?"

"Hardly." Cross snorted scathingly, because the notion was as far off the mark as ever. "That damned nitwit could get lost in a _shoebox_. And butcher akuma with that arm of his and then afterwards _cry_ about it. Can't even cook for his damned life, either- burns the toast and breaks the eggs."

Although to be fair, Allen did clean very well---especially tiny nooks and crannies and hard-to-reach areas of accumulated dust like windows and chimneys. And Allen was very good with the shopping, being able to budget out just barely enough money and use it frugally and efficiently.

"So does Kanda Yuu. The lattermost part, that is, but lack of culinary skills does not diminish him in my eyes as an exorcist. Yuu also lacks the empathy needed for an exorcist. And my poor Deesha, a very good boy whom needs- needed- to learn moderation for his pranks. I would not mind so much now if he short-sheeted my bed---dying so young does not fit so vibrant a soul." Tiedeur said, but without a hint of reproach. "But, they are good children, despite their shortcomings."

"Hmph. Aren't they all."

Cross thought with a hint of annoyance of burnt toast and unpleasant breakfast-lacking mornings when he was already late enough for a date, and his shirt was not yet ironed, and all his spare ones were either in the wash or rotting on the line where Allen had neglected to take them in, and Timcanpi had forgot to remind him due to the fact that it had misplaced itself somewhere or the other which could possibly be Allen's fault again for accidentally locking it out when it was taking its airy stroll outside, and even worse Cross needed Timcanpi's records because of the fact that Allen had forgot to get him the new little black book that he had needed to take down names the week before, and thusly he couldn't remember just which lady he had a date with….

…and the list went on and on.

The little British punk never was much use.

But if the elder man noticed the sarcasm, he did not let on that he did, or ignored it completely. "You should keep your precious people closer, Cross- life, it is too short for us all." He cautioned, well-meaning and the concern clear in his tone.

The red-haired general yawned, waved his hand dismissively as if to set aside the topic. Certainly he could for the most part understand why the other general was waxing melancholy, because of the deaths of one of his three students.

However, that was as long as the mourning process did not extend to lecturing him on relationships with other people, and Cross was eager to end the conversation for once and for all and be left to his own devices. "Whatever you say. Although it's another matter altogether if you're implying that I'm heartless- I'll have you know that I don't really care either way."

But he knew that he certainly wasn't. Heartless, that was.

Even if he was described to be brilliant as an exorcist and absolutely horrible as a human being. Both qualities were true, but only when he was cast in black and white and none of the varying shades of gray in between.

"The earl is searching hard for him and would like nothing better than his life."

"…Him as in Allen Walker."

"Yes. Aside from you, he may be the exorcist that the Earl fears most."

"…I know that." It was not as if he was uninformed of recent affairs regarding his duties as an exorcist. If he wasn't so convinced that a laid-back attitude and lots of red wine would be conducive to him having a long happy life, he would have been indignant underneath his self-possession. Neglecting his duties was one thing he never did, even if he was frolicking around on an extended vacation that never seemed to end.

"Is it just because he is the prophesized destroyer of time?" Tiedeur questioned calmly. "Or, is it for an entirely different matter?"

"I would think that being so prophesized about is enough of an excuse for the earl to pursue him." Pure hype, the lot of prophesies- although he did admit that Allen had quite the potential to be an excellent exorcist, general even, if motivated.

"And this boy, his last name is….Walker, is it not? Any relation to-"

"Yes." Cross interjected calmly, "But it probably is a coincidence that he also happens to be the destroyer of time, whatever that means."

"Count on Bookman to enlighten us on that fact sometime or the other."

Silence. Then, from Tiedeur: "He will not betray us, no? The Bookman that is."

Cross watched the old man push his thick glasses up his nose from where they had slipped down to hide his expression.

"How am I supposed to know?" He snapped brusquely. "The Bookman and his idiot disciple are unaligned, but the fact that they don't have loyalty to anyone for the most part keeps them from being our foes."

"That alone is what is worrying, no?" Tiedeur said nonchalantly. "They cannot choose a side, but their occupation does not ordain that they necessarily have to provide history from specifically our viewpoint."

Cross shrugged lazily. "We're more interesting than any damned Noah, that's all."

"It is only a possibility, I say. But let us hope that we remain much more interesting than our enemies, shall we."

Tiedeur smiled gently, and Cross turned away to once more refill his glass. He contemplated their short conversation, which had been brief but yet not brief enough in his opinion.

That, and the fact that he realized that he had picked up a bit of the Noo Yawk accent in his month-long stay in the Big Apple. That infernal sis-con Komui would never let him live it down, if the scientist was still around.

After all, Black clergy personnel had the tendency to die, whether or not they were on the front line.

--------------------------------

_Rome, Italy. 12:22 PM_

The Bookman tenderly blew, wiped, and patted the fragile vellum pages of painstakingly handwritten information. At last, spidery words in a fading black ink was uncovered from under the layers of foreign particles that had over time accumulated on the leaves, and he allowed a rare smile to flit across his features.

Dust on books was not so much dirty as it was a heinous crime tantamount to sacrilege.

But his love of knowledge provided bias, so his opinion on such matters like the condition of the library archives could safely be ignored. In addition, opinion on his own part in just about anything else was discouraged as well. The job of Bookman was strictly impersonal and all private estimations and morals were to be disregarded.

There was always a certain margin of error in his work; the act of observation itself was an introduction of new unpredictable variables- anything and everything could have gone differently if he or Rabi were not around. The possibilities were endless, dispersed across time and occurrences and uncountable people.

They were only people after all, a very human presence that could not go neglected or unnoticed by others and thus in the very ironic end they were merely hindrances to their hard, often thankless work.

Could they not influence what they wrote? Certainty no- he only tolerated Rabi's friendships because they provided more accuracy and details on information that they as outsiders would otherwise would not have access to.

The Bookman sighed in disappointment, and after briefly poring over the pages, shut the book and returned it to where he had found it in the first place. Without further ado he again consulted the outdated library catalogue and after some searching found his next target, a thick hand-bound manuscript that was falling apart at the seams due to either age or poor craftsmanship.

Again, he did not find what he wanted to know.

After the Bookman had repeated the process several more times to little avail, and each time finding that the pages upon which the information he sought lay were all conveniently torn out or blacked out with a thick opaque ink, he returned to his solitary lonely seat in the center of the empty library to sip some coffee and ponder.

Memory was an unreliable thing, that much he was certain from experience, as the human mind tended to remember different articles of information based off personal preference or inclination.

Interest, dislike, and other such reactions to information could lead to predisposition, which was exactly why people usually were able to twist memories to such an extent that they themselves begin to truly believe in a totally fabricated past.

This was exactly why he dared not rely on his own recollections of the former scientist Mana Walker, because the interactions they had with one another no doubt tainted whatever he remembered of him.

Walker was a clever but elusive fellow whom liked English tea with as many cubes of sugar as possible- that much the Bookman would grudgingly want to consider, but that fact was completely and utterly useless information of any sort, and was more of his own private connections with the subject.

Moreover, to his chagrin he realized that it was the one and only bit of personal information that he knew of the elusive man. Nothing of his existing family, or where he was from, or where he lived- just the fact that he liked sugar.

Everything else was but infamy, something created by the Order and something that even he as Bookman was not entitled to know much of. Everything else was on a detachedly professional level like the experiments that Mana did and the reason why he was condemned by the very people he worked for. And all of it was so contaminated by a thinly veiled current of prejudice favoring the Order.

_The Forgotten One, The Traitor_- they were all demeaning labels and names that Mana was referred to now, as his real name was not spoken of in earshot of order personnel, if he was even remembered.

"…S- Science." Bookman halfheartedly thumbed through the listings of notable heads of the Black Order Science Department, but the text was fairly new and no doubt edited, as Komui's name had replaced where his should have been, one space too high up on the page.

He took an uncharacteristically large gulp of coffee- he could skip being a good example when young Rabi was not around- and set the volume aside.

If anything, the Black Order had violated one of the most respected rules of archiving history when they had tampered with the documents; Discarding or obscuring the truth, even if it was unpleasant, defeated the entire purpose of history. Writing the past with an ink colored by bias or opinion or judgment was not true, and thus would lose the intended purpose- if it ever was intended.

It was not that Bookman entirely could not understand the reasons for such deception, though, as the clergy had always through time jealously guarded their own failures and elevated everything else to impossible heights of glory- written to brainwash, because their own motivations opposed that of telling things as it was. Satisfying myths of believers was above truth in every single case.

Thusly, all information that concerned the scientist Mana Walker was burnt and torn out and thrown out as merely a figment of the past that never really existed; if it had, it was shrouded in infamy and became so real that nobody could believe otherwise, excepting the people whom were acquainted with him himself.

Not the historical Mana Walker of a decade ago- the real person, not the man whose research was continued even this day by younger scientists; not the infamous traitor the order had made him out to be due to necessity.

It was arrogance, infallible human arrogance and a need to maintain an image that had covered up everything behind dust and lies and fire. Perhaps, Bookman mused thoughtfully, Mana's ghost and his influence when alive had been underestimated.

Allen Walker was but one more remainder of it all; a covered and still-burning ember from the past, suddenly sparking into fiery life once more by the sudden vehemence of the Earl's desire to hunt him down.

"…The destroyer of time…"Bookman murmured, "The Earl's mortal enemy that is the sole person whom can destroy him."

The significance of that was determined in that Allen Walker was the Order's trump card, but there was something quite suspicious and rancid about the entire matter. It was not that he didn't see the logic in the Earl landing the first and final blow by eliminating the threat that Allen posed to him. However, Allen's evolving pentacle had been directly caused by Mana Walker, and why that curse existed in the first place was strange.

And then, there was of course the question of Mana Walker himself, and the secret research that he had conducted prior to his resignation from the order.

Innocence was innocence- pure and beautiful and everything good, God's blessing to the chosen ones to defend humanity. But it also inspired sin- corruption, arrogance, the stench of the filth that had permeated into a good purpose.

If there was a single fact Bookman had observed reoccurring in his extremely long career as Bookman of the order, it was that they had all lost sight of whatever it was that they wanted. It could all be summed up in a single sentence, the purpose of the order, and that was to protect people from akuma.

But it had been twisted, and something once godly was now used for devious purposes, from experimenting on human life to create Fallen Ones to Rinali's being forced into the role of an exorcist, to the many other such questionable activities that existed behind closed doors.

The exorcists, the core of the order, were kept relatively free of this knowledge, as they had not yet learned to question what they were fighting for, and Mana Walker when he was living had embodied the many unasked and unanswered doubts.

But still, it had been necessary for the Black –yes, truly black- Order to find a scapegoat upon whom could be shoved the responsibility of covering tracks leading down a treacherous road that undermined everything it was supposed to stand for.

The Order was _the_ Order. It would not stand for anything less, would not sow the seeds of suspicion that a lone man had implanted; and thus he must be dealt with accordingly so that everything could go on the way it always did. There was no need to even create a reason, because what they were doing was enough that he himself would automatically rebel and provide them with an opportunity to denounce him.

Innocence was ultimately only an excuse at the very best, something that lent its brightness to dark causes.

In the name of all things good, they crowed. In the names of all things good the ends justify the means and we shall strip from you your humanity in the process, and for the sake of the world we shall do everything in our- unspoken: and _yours_- to achieve victory over the Earl.

The Bookman heaved another sigh and with great melancholy realized that he had accidentally spilled a bit of his drink upon the table, something that he had often yelled at Rabi for.

"We are all hypocrites, that we are." He muttered while wiping up the still hot liquid, not without a slight resentment at how weak the human resolve and ability truly was.

It was only a pity that the only man whom actually realized that was now gone, and had taken his genius and scientific research and most of all, his compassionate heart, with him.

_It was Hevlaska who presided, seniority and experience and knowledge making the large exorcist the most fitting candidate for the position. Strangely, on the day of the trial and correspondingly the conviction, of all the people it was the defendant whom was calmest, sitting on the platform high above the crowd with a soft smile on his lined and haggard face._

_Serenity became Mana Walker well, in his knowledge that he was in the right, and the Bookman was sure that he did not hate those whom had pushed him into such a pit of fire, whom were crucifying his own cause in front of his eyes. _

_Sorrow-Pity, perhaps even-but never hate. Mana Walker with his gigantic capacity to see good in all never was capable of hate. _

_When the jury sat, the crowd had been a loud throng that hurled insults and threats at the defendant. The Bookman was sitting in the first row, pen poised to note down in quick and efficient shorthand the record of the trial. _

_Next to him reclined a sullen General Cross, and on his other side sat the newly inducted and fresh-faced Cloud Nine. All of the generals had assembled and sat in a row of gold-trimmed uniforms in the front row, their very much important presences required for such a high court to properly judge their suspended head officer and chief of the science department. _

_Before the trial they had held mass, to supposedly summon the grace of the heavens to grant them the will and power to let justice be done; a chorus sang in soaring angelic voices the familiar strains of dramatic religious music, if only to prepare and set the ambiance for the trial in such a way to invoke feelings of faith that would gain much support for the persecution. _

_The Bookman scribbled down in discreet small letters that the clergy certainly was pulling as many strings as possible to win opinion over to them, and to lower the defendant's standing by casting an emotional veil over their eyes._

_There was a loud gasp, overly dramatic, when Mana Walker declared in his quiet voice a strong and steady 'not guilty.' _

_Next to the Bookman, Cross grunted noncommittally through his nose and gave a short barking laugh, most likely at the exaggerated reaction. _

"_I don't have time for this bullshit." He scoffed, clarifying it by jerking his flame-red head towards the box where the grim-looking jury were situated in all their despondent glory of black hoods. "It doesn't matter whether he's right or not-The peanut gallery rabble up there won't let anything happen to the reputation of the order, and they'll go after him because he's the only one standing up against them. One person's easy to take down."_

_Bookman watched him get up and stalk off in the direction of the door, shoving aside anyone whom blocked his way. No doubt he was going to return to indulging his voyeuristic tendencies once more- the trial was just one more thing for him that kept him longer in the place he hated so much. It meant little to a man whom was never present who his boss was- all that was important to him was that he get his monthly paycheck. _

_Mana had no lawyer, and the Bookman knew that he would not need one because appointing one would be futile and/or even damage his case. It was a vaguely informal process ordained only by whatever the clergy desired and there was already evidence of the existence of a kangaroo court lurking in the stands._

_Contempt of court for not wearing more formal attire._

_Infringement of contract._

_Violation of duty of care as member of the Black Order._

_And as many other impossible and trivial charges as possible were brought up against the scientist, if only as a precursor to the real bearbaiting. As a Bookman, even _he_ of all people was not entirely sure if any of those charges were actually genuine or fictional, much less the audience be expected to understand. _

_For failure to execute orders from the Order heads to continue on with his research, the penalty was death. _

_Unfortunately, it was not his place to interfere. The Bookman could only watch on neutrally as the sensationalism-hungry crowd lapped it up and were led gamely on by the persecution, like little lambs to the slaughter._

_The fools- could not see that it was all rigged, that it was all fabricated and a product of harping on the fears of the human mind, rigged off possibilities and inconclusive evidence that never had been backed up in the first place.  
_

_Objection: Calls for Speculation. _

_But since no details were ever disclosed in full, the light of justice was but a dim little glow that was tainted by humankind itself. _


	33. Fall

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man. I don't own "If Everyone Cared" either...it belongs to Nickelback.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And lotsa lotsa thanks to the people who pointed out the grammatical errors- I'll be sure to watch out for the whoms now. Although still this chapter is ever so...incoherent. Grammer-wise, plot-wise and just about everything-wise.

Let's just say I'm pretty much still high off the prospect of vacation as well as tooth-rottingly sugary-fluffy-wuffy cpop and shoujo animes and mangas...Ouran Host Club, Romeo x Juliet and HanaKimi. (O.o) So many Reverse-Trap! characters. ( Although that still doesn't explain why I used one of Nickelback's songs...) _And_ I did well on my spanish regents too! So happy...

Gah, this was supposed to be two chapters but I figured to put it all into one and upload it already for the hell of it, since I've been writing a lot lately- not just this fic but an original story I'm also working on at the same time.

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Ch. 33

Fall

It had been around a few hours ago when he had received the news that the order had fallen, via golem after he returned with Edmund to the cathedral. While Rabi and Allen had their little crying fest he had been called by one of the most unlikely of persons: Toma the finder.

_'The Finder_' was always an obligatory title that he always immediately associated with the name, Toma having always been from the very first day addressed by Komui as 'the finder' to him despite the fact that they were on a much more familiar basis because of their more often than not overlapping work schedules- Kanda had always attributed that to the fact that few other finders were actually willing to accompany- or rather, _hinder_- him on missions.

Of course, Toma had out of both necessity and fear for his own life sooner than later gotten accustomed to Kanda's temper and became adept at avoiding him when he was on the warpath.

Anyhow, Toma was Toma… who he wasn't aware even had a golem with him at all. Normally finders used a portable phone, or used public communication services. Or even telegram, giving the circumstances. And then, to know much less_ his_ contact information at all, of all exorcists'. But he supposed that the finder _did_ have a rather reasonable if highly disturbing reason to call, so as to inform them that they no longer had a headquarters to return to.

The tower, for all its sense of gloom and doom, had been their bedrock, upon which they had felt safe because it had been supposedly impenetrable for ages. And to learn that the one place which had been viewed as a secure area was no longer secured anymore meant to all of them that no, there was no place in the world where they could possibly let down their guard again.

His companions had taken the foul tidings fairly well, but apart from the headquarters' ceasing to exist Kanda had purposely left out Rinali's involvement and the possibility that she could probably be dead.

Kept it from Allen because of reasons that were fairly obvious- the kid always did have an explosively emotional and irritating personality like that. (No doubt he'd cry over both Rinali _and_ the akuma as well, hypocrite that he was.)

Kept it from Rabi because to some extent he had always suspected Rabi's affections for the Chinese girl to deviate from platonic at times, to the point of something that Komui probably wouldn't be very happy about.

And he kept it to himself because he was still unsure to say it out loud- to do so would be to break from the poisonously hopeful and probably futile denial that the girl had been spared, at least temporarily, from the fate of an exorcist.

Although he would not admit that he was _worried_- merely _concerned_ that if the order was one less exorcist, the precious manpower would be decreased, as would morale. Rinali was, after all, Komui's assistant not to mention like a breath of fresh air after Komui's eccentric antics. It was always some comfort, if paltry, to know that at least she was keeping the science department sane with her services of making coffee and cleaning up after her brother.

All on strictly professional terms, all impersonal and reduced to not people but facts and statistics on lists and lists of facts and statistics that ultimately meant nothing because facts and statistics were merely unable to capture the true essence of any single person.

On such terms, Rinali was not his friend, but just one more precious exorcist that happened to be precious not because she was the kind, beautiful, warmhearted person that even he himself had to admit she was, but because of the fact that she was an exorcist.

He didn't quite mind it like that though, everything being distinctly separate and none of his concern. That way, it was better.

Facts and statistics were cold, unfaultable, and quite distinctly overrated in his opinion, as everything and anything usually was. But this time, Kanda could give in to the suspension of realizing the truth (despite his failure to see the logic in it) and not believe something had finally happened to one of their own, an exorcist he had been familiar with for quite some time.

Yes, belief was overrated as well- the human mind was weak, inasmuch as he hated to acknowledge that fact.

But everything had been only a precursor to what was yet to come; The troubles had all began around midnight.

It had been hours after the devastating massacre at the train station that crippled Vienna's transportation system, but the crushing blow was still a fresh wound that was beginning to fester already in the chill and distraught atmosphere that permeated the entire city and worried its dwellers.

So it was not entirely unexpected for Kanda to be woken up from an uneasy doze propped against the wall to hear the angry shouts from a growing mob that was swiftly gathering in anger and numbers outside the walls of the cathedral.

The black and white uniforms marked exorcists as targets, and not only for akuma. It was common knowledge among the populace that their presences marked the beginning of trouble, or rather the stirring up of trouble that had lain dormant to prey in secret on hapless human beings ignorant of the Earl's doings. And thusly, their intervention in killing akuma sometimes went thankless.

And in this case, unwelcome.

"They see us as the enemy, that if we get out of the city all this bad luck wouldn't befall them." Rabi hissed, face drawn and wan in the unlighted room where he stood peeking out from behind the curtains at the angry crowd below. "The priests in the cathedral say that those people want to run us out...but no pressure."

"Che. Idiots the lot of them, they don't stand a chance without us protecting the city." Kanda snarled derisively, squinting down and not at all liking what he saw.

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Rabi pov:

As much as he was not very fond of Kanda deriding people, Rabi had to grudgingly admit that the angry exorcist was correct down to the last percent. There was no sense in giving too much credit to 'swarm intelligence' when the greatest threat to the people were the akuma, which were of a completely different supernatural origin altogether.

A large group of people was an agglomeration of power; where the individual could not succeed the convened whole could- they would hold much more influence united than when alone. The force of people working together was something to run from, and when they were so firm in their desperation and conviction, it was all the more frightening.

Rabi reasoned that they as a dangerous accumulation of resentment and fear would provide the greatest threat to he and his companions as people that looked to pose an unproven but supposedly present threat to the citizens, the majority of which were already were suspicious of authority of any sort, especially foreign ones not from the country.

They were responding to the attack on their relative peace with the only natural answer for people so frightened of any disturbances and so reliant on normalcy as most were: they lashed out at the nearest and most probably unknown suspect.

In this case, them.

"Ne, Kanda...which is scarier. A samurai or someone with a machine-gun and an endless supply of magazines?"

"...Samurai."

"I certainly hope you're not saying that just because you're Japanese. But it makes sense, since samurai believe in- that...whaddaya call it? Mushi-pushi-bushi-"

"_Bushido_, _bakayaro_."

"Yeah, that." Rabi said ruefully. "I wasn't sure what you called it in your language. Well, these people believe in something too- they want to protect their city from being blown up into even more pretty little smithereens like their train station was...which means that we're in pretty deep shit."

"Is it alright if I just kill them all?" Kanda responded frostily.

"Errr...no." Harming innocent civilians was forbidden to exorcists, but it looked as if it would be unavoidable giving the current situation. Moreover- Kanda's quick dark eyes roamed around- the mob was too big to placate peacefully without danger to their persons, and if matters got even more out of hand, human blood would be spilled when it decided to storm the holy place.

Apparently sanctuary in the church was not a doctrine respected in the city even by the most devout of people, and despite all he was not really willing to make allowances for their stress and shock of being attacked.

"They're incensed and shocked- the collective conscious isn't going to make it any easier for us to try to reason with them- the rage at us is pretty much an emergent phenomenon in so big a crowd and I sorta see why they're so mad. I'm fairly sure that sooner or later they'll try to take us out. " Rabi murmured. "They're beyond talk now, and I'm willing to bet that all they want us to do is leave, or they'll rip our guts out."

He didn't doubt that the people- normally docile normal human beings- would.

Crowds were the source of many things, and miracles could happen, from acts of genius and bravery to stupidity and cowardice.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kanda's pov:

Collective conscious?- Kanda wasn't going to even deign to even ask Rabi what he meant, although he figured that it was to a certain extent self-explanatory. Like the ants in an anthill- dumb on their own and only good when working together. Collective wisdom was only a product of coincidence, at the very best.

Rabi had said that in a cheerful enough tone to make Kanda want to draw and quarter him as an example and then string his carcass outside for the crowd to see. While that would have provided sufficient warning to an already bloodthirsty crowd, the reputation of the Order had already been tarnished enough and there was still time to repair the lack of faith on the civilians' part. So much for no pressure.

Damaging the testy and admittedly strained relationship between the Black Priests and the people they had to protect was not a viable option anyhow, as Komui had always seen fit to inform him in entirely dulcet and meaningful tones before he left on missions.

"Hn. They can try."

Rabi turned a wry gaze upon him. "On the warpath already, Yuu-chan? Blood pressure, blood pressure-" He dodged Kanda's swipe halfheartedly "-But we're here to protect them, remember. And in such a large crowd…"

"…akuma can be hidden. Where's the damn Beansprout when you need him?!" Kanda swore under his breath. Or rather not the Beansprout, but his rather admittedly useful cursed eye. And then there was his recently acquired technique that was a bit suspicious and made for too close a comparison with an akuma- the kid's already existing pentacle be damned.

"W.C., I guess. Been there for over a hour."

In an ill humor that was progressively getting worse with each passing second, Kanda stormed off in its direction, belatedly cursing the fact that said British exorcist seemingly was always absent at the most opportune of times. He rapped on the door with impatience, with enough force to cause the occupant inside to squeak loudly. "Oi. Get. Out. Here. Now." He said through gritted teeth.

"If you wanted to use the lavatory you can just say so like a decent human being." Allen muttered from inside in strangely deflated tones, over the sound of running water that was turned on hastily.

His voice sounded on the raw side and slightly hoarse, but Kanda gave it fleeting notice in preference of wondering why he was taking so long. Such a girl, probably primping in front of the mirror.

"A mob's gathering outside, and from the looks of it they don't like us at all." He informed him curtly.

That apparently was enough to force the little fool from his vegetating inside. The door creaked open and the Beansprout stepped out, hastily slipping a small bag back inside his cloak. "A mob? Why?!"

"Maybe it's the fact their train station got itself destroyed. " The Japanese exorcist snapped back mercilessly, as they headed towards the West gable, which was high enough to act as an observing deck.

"If we have a mass akuma ambush, I'm not sure if we'll hold the akuma off the city for long, there's too many civilians to every one of us. Crowley won't get here soon enough." Allen remarked needlessly, taking two steps to keep up with every one of his long strides.

Of course, it did not pass Kanda's observation that the point had entirely went over the Beansprout's head, and _of course_ he was worrying more about the akuma than the wrath of the commoners.

"We can do without that bloodsucker for now. He scares normal people off with his face." Kanda reiterated angrily.

"That's not very nice, Kanda."

As if he needed to be told something that was completely obvious.

Like in a fight, he usually never backed off a heated verbal spar, if only for the sake of venting steam on the most convenient person-who happened to usually be the docile and just as hapless Beansprout- but this time he grudgingly acquiesced to the scarcity of time and changed the topic. "…Can you fight? In that condition of yours."

"…" No response.

"Can you?!" Kanda asked sharply, and stopped abruptly, Allen ending up plowing straight into his back.

A miserable "Oww…." Was his only answer.

He watched unsympathetically as he watched the younger boy tried to pick himself up from the floor, but when he looked as if he was having a little difficulty doing so, Kanda began to be slightly concerned.

No doubt the injury to his waist was giving him a bit of trouble, and parasitic types also needed to be well rested to function properly, being the troublesome sorts that they were.

"Bloody hell…" It was the closest to swearing as he ever heard from Allen, as the exorcist sat in a miserable crumpled heap on the ground.

Kanda knelt down next to him and unceremoniously yanked up his shirt-From the looks of it, it was not just all bruises and lacerations, but perhaps damaged organs as well -earning a yelp from the Beansprout, who immediately slapped his hand away with quick reflexes Kanda was unaware that he possessed.

"Don't--touch--me!" It was unmistakable, the sudden, quivering anger that colored Allen's voice as he clumsily scrambled away.

Anger, pure and unadulterated for the most part, except for the slight tinge of fear that Kanda thought he heard.

Actually, not so much fear as helpless apprehension, as if just by grazing his skin the exorcist had been badly spooked. Gods- was he crying?

"Oi. What's wrong?"

No, Kanda discovered as he cautiously leaned closer, not crying but trembling. Like a leaf in the storm, as if the slightest and smallest of winds could easily blow him away at any given moment.

And indeed, with the mob raging outside and a storm of depression gathering its dark clouds within, Allen did look so fragile.

--------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had always prided herself by always maintaining her normally top-notch health- an important quality even the more so because she was a parasitic type- but even she had to admit that lately she had been in less than ideal shape.

But Allen still felt sick.

Head hurt. Stomach hurt. Muscles hurt with sporadic, periodic spasms of pain that could be attributed to fatigue and strain.

"Owww…." She whimpered, belatedly realizing that she should have went to sleep like Rabi had flatly suggested that she do. But the two male exorcists were in too close a proximity to her person for her to rest in comfort, and so she had fled.

But it wasn't as if she was going to sleep in the washroom either- she had her disguise to re-make up, and the wear was showing even more blatantly than ever that it was a wonder the two boys hadn't noticed anything awry.

Sitting on the bathroom counter, legs dangling helplessly, she waited the minutes out until day came, because sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. Every time after a battle, even dreams offered her no relief from the harshness of reality.

Moreover, this times' had been on an almost personal level, invoking emotions that she was not sure she cared to feel, half due to their novelty and half due still to her own reluctance to fully confront them head on- Edmund's constant presence was not all that much of a help either.

The one thing she had always worried about was other people. On a personal basis, she was worried about what she was to other people- no, not what she was, but rather how she felt towards other people.

There was a point when the line got too blurred in all its many manifestations in her life, in which her concern for humanity was always being tested- where was the point when she stopped caring?

People were people, and Allen loved them for their just being her fellow human brothers and sisters and the family she never had and what it had always meant to her- that there was kindness and love and beauty and that sort of good thing in existence out there.

But saving them was one thing- and caring was entirely different. Now that so many had died, she wasn't so sure if her little incapable heart was able to hold so much emotion.

There was only so much she could feel before everything became moot for her- the woman in red and her little boy Edmund had been the last of all the feelings she could spare, and that was only because it had been on a far deeper level then what she had expected.

It wasn't with a steady head that she was thinking such thoughts, but Allen ignored how the floor periodically spun and thought that perhaps attachment to anything- be it people or things or notions- was a dangerous thing.

Master Cross took and flung aside women on a weekly, if not daily basis- he had told her gruffly in no uncertain terms that she should feel honored to be the only constant female presence in his life, at the very least until she died which would probably be soon seeing how stupid a disciple she was….

That sort of stuff, and one would have expected that she would have by now erected an anti-Cross wall to deflect off all his petty little comments that were almost as cutting as Kanda's, especially because she had always been enamored of his role as a general and respected him ...

He went great lengths just not to engage with her on a more emotional level, which explained his harsh tendencies regarding her, and if he had any paternal inclinations she had never really seen it blatantly from him.

General Cross didn't so much scare her to death as the implication of what he was to her- a father? Someone that she had been dependent on to lead her around? (Although more often than not it was the other way around, since she was the one bringing him money to squander.)

It was not that Allen couldn't see why he was such a womanizer- intimacy to a certain extent scared her to death.

It was just one more person close to you that could get hurt.

It was a tragedy of her own making, and that was why akuma and the victims of akuma were so close to her heart, because it was just that…intimate, the situations that they shared. The akuma as the killer, the human as the victim, and her the 'hero/heroine' that failed to get there in time.

Allen stared wearily at her own drawn face in the mirror, and was well aware that no amount of concealer would make her look as if she had got a full night of sleep. Just as bad was the fact that she had acquired a slight (and unanticipated- she normally burnt) tan over the summer, and if she got any darker her concealer would be of too light a shade for her to continue to use it.

Although she would never own up to it, she knew that she was sick. Sick to her stomach from so much blood, sick in mind and heart and soul and it all hurt like hell.

The headache that had been hovering around ever since the day before finally settled in like a eagle swooping in for the finalized kill, a predator lying in her wake to take advantage of any weakness. The pain seemed to crawl down her spine, seeping into the marrow of her bones and making her entire body tremble. But it was nothing compared with what was ripping apart her heart.

Her head throbbed and throbbed with the screams of those helpless against impending death, and every time she closed her eyes to doze she would see akuma. How Kanda had sat himself into a meditative position and managed to stay like that completely was beyond her abilities, rattled and frayed as her nerves were at the moment.

Allen had closed Timcanpi out of the bathroom, ignored the golden wings beating dejectedly against the closed door, and after a while it had winged away in rejection. She hadn't wanted to do that but being alone was what she needed right now.

Death. Death. And more death. It had all crashed down upon her all at once after she had safely enclosed herself in the washroom to reapply her makeup. The unflattering and direct lighting within had cast everything in contrasting shadows, made her face look inhuman with all its powders and imitation flesh toned shadows.

The brush was for the first time a dead weight in her hands; Allen had to reapply the shadow four times, as the cosmetics kept on caking and she was unable to get the naturally smooth matte finish that would keep her face from looking too fake.

The dual compact was just getting to the point to which there was only a very little layer of powder left, and when she checked her other little containers she found out that she was down to the very last bit, and she was certain that refills would be near impossible in a city where she didn't speak the language.

Allen was so tired, and the only thing that kept her going was the locket around her neck. She had promised Hevlaska she wouldn't cry either, but promises were not something easily kept by a pathological liar.

"Oi. Get. Out. Here. Now.And then Kanda had appeared to drag her elsewhere, nearly knocking the door down. It was the first time that she had seen him noticeably upset, and although she nearly missed it, the tight tick that pulsed thickly and angrily in his jaw said more than she needed to hear from him.

Too preoccupied in thinking of the possibilities that could go wrong if they failed to quell the spirit of unease in the Viennese people, she hadn't noticed that he'd stopped, and thus crashed into his back. When he suddenly pulled up her shirt when she had least expected him to touch her, she reacted badly and reflexively pushed him away.

He couldn't touch her, not even if he knew she was female.

His touch was rough, devoid of caring and just what she didn't need at the moment, even if all he wanted to do- for once- was to help. Kanda was a cold person and she felt that truly, his manner hard and his hand even hard on her skin, and as he accidentally grazed her bare and wounded stomach it hurt.

"Don't-touch-me." Allen bit out angrily, moving away.

She could only guess how many shades of purple and blue and God knew what other colors in the spectrum her stomach was. It had probably gone beyond internal bleeding, but as long as none of her vital internal organs were too badly damaged, everything else would be for the most part reparable by Komui's strange devices. Although she certainly wouldn't look forward to the operating table- she would insist to go with as little anesthesia as possible to guarantee that she would be half-coherent and able to fend him off if he decided to pry a little.

The expression on his face was strange, and she realized that he perhaps was unaware of just how difficult a person he was to get along sometimes. The words personal and space had probably never crossed his mind before, and even if they had he wouldn't understand what they meant.

"Oi. What's wrong?"

The British exorcist shook her head mutely to his question, not expecting him to personally care very much for his duty as an exorcist and what it took to save others. It was the utmost indignity to be misunderstood by the very people that were the ones she wanted to help; not so much a personal offense as it was a general sadness that they didn't know the danger that they were in.

And the hurt, oh the hurt that they must be feeling at the moment, how they had little more to do than to lash out at the only target they knew: the exorcists that had stirred up such a foul stew of trouble in their city.

But Allen was unable to do anything beyond quiver.

She was confused why her body was so sluggish and hurt so much- couldn't feel anything other than the deadened slackness of her own weight. Sleep was the only thing her body wanted to do, but her mind protested violently against it.

Twenty-four hours wasn't enough. It never was to save the world, when the most minute of moments was a single lifetime past and gone.

"How big's the mob? Do you think we can pacify them?" In a peaceful manner, she noted silently, eyeing his grip on mugen distrustfully.

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like a strangled "I wish," but a sudden wave of dizziness had her in its grip and she blinked half in confusion and half in anger, the latter at how disobedient her own body was behaving.

"Allen?"

How very much peculiar- he called her by name, not some sort of demeaning nickname that wasn't really an endearing nickname.

"Are you sick?" He asked, blunt and to the point.

She wasn't sure if she had imagined the loathing in his voice, but all the same she daresay that he wasn't pleased at all.

"Mmph. Just a bit _tired_. Just a _bit_." Emphasizing the words so as to ensure that she had got the point fully across, and that he would leave off his pointless not-concern, and inform her about the current situation. Fuss and anxiety became him as much as intelligence became her- not very nicely, and all lies.

A startling touch on her forehead, the uncomfortable sensation of unfamiliar human contact, unfamiliar even the more so because it was him, and he had initiated it on his own part.

She flinched, no doubt visibly to her humiliation, as his hand slipped under her fringe of bangs and rested there briefly, pulling away in a quick and hurried fashion before she could uncomfortably wriggle away. But it was still surprisingly gentle, coming from someone who killed akuma as nonchalantly as he routinely ate his breakfast of soba.

"-I told you already…" She tried to keep from grumbling like a child. "…I'm fine. Yes. Really." She took in his annoyed glare and matched it with one of her own, although she knew that such juvenility would be inappropriate for such a time. "Where is the rooftop? I can activate my eye there and scan for akuma."

"…I think you're sick." He told her flatly.

Only he would say it in such an emotionless, flat tone that normally one would use to treat matter of fact subjects. But she had always suspected that she meant nothing to him. And it seemed that changing the topic was a favorite diversion tactic by men, the idiots that they were.

"Nevermind that-" Halfways through an angry sentence, she shut up, eyes wide as she realized just how irritability was getting the better of her.

Releasing negative emotions were necessary for the sake of maintaining a proper balance of emotion, and to ensure that one not get crushed under them. God in heaven, she was never sure how much hate and sorrow and all those horrible things were held in within her, never sure if she was setting off a storm when she allowed them to even so slightly to momentarily cross her mind.

Letting her inner immaterial demons out was certainly asking for trouble, and feelings were injured so easily. If anything, people were scarier to her than akuma- they broke easier and in a fit of carelessness could involuntarily get hurt or be hurt.

Kanda was the only person who she knew who flung human feelings around on a daily basis like that, all crude words and harshness that could cut so deeply if one did not shrug it all off indifferently.

Which made his mere presence all the more desensitizing.

However, the vehemence, the unbreakable torrents of heartfelt, driving sentiments that were all part of being a parasitic type and the limitless evolution only further increased the necessity of having those sentiments. Sensations, feelings, _passions_- of all the people in the order, they were the ones whom needed a reason to fight the most. And quite frankly, it hurt the most too.

It was no place or time for stress and crying things out- as she always knew, the world never stopped for anyone. The dying would not end unless she stopped it herself and that alone was enough inspiration in itself.

_If everyone cared and nobody cried  
If everyone loved and nobody lied  
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride  
Then we'd see the day when nobody died_

Naïveeeee, Cross would have no doubt sneered in her face had he been present….but she could never help how everything seemed to defy her idealistic views, nor would she ever change her views just because of that. She was only human, after all- clinging to what kept her alive and sane- and she needed a purpose to exist.

What was it like to be human? Not the wretched soul hanging off an akuma in chains- the soul within did not look like that inside a human, she thought. There was no definition, and humanity spawned the most base of hellion scum as well as the most seraphic of kindhearted beings. It scared her sometimes, what people really were capable of.

She was one to talk, though, all prettily brave and prettily broken words that were hollow under all its bling-bling superficiality that was based off personal morals and no fact.

Her cursed eye was practically all akuma and although perceptive Rabi had made no remark on it, Allen was fairly certain that no exorcist used Dark Matter, and being out of the ordinary was hardly good in a highly fundamentalist and conservative hierarchy like the church- the lattermost being common knowledge passed down by Cross, the general having always harbored an intense dislike for his higher-ups.

_And I'm singing  
Amen I, Amen I, I'm alive  
Amen I, Amen I, Amen I, I'm alive_

"…I'm sorry." She mumbled, and turned a pleadingly apologetic gaze on him, hoping to at the very least diffuse the situation by not arousing any more of his anger; it was pointless and unprofessional for them to maintain such…hostilities towards each other when doing so would only hinder their mission.

To her surprise, he had an unreadable, foreign expression on his face that looked just the slightest perturbed or disturbed, as if he had not expected her to cut off his venting out his anger on her.

"I didn't mean to snap like that." She told him, trying to look as sincere as she could manage with her brain raising bloody hell inside her cranium.

"Then don't bother talking at all. You're annoying." Was his tart and angry response.

To that response, Allen was confused but too tired to maintain her rage for long- just why did she even bother demeaning herself by apologizing to him?

"…I said I was sorry." She protested, catching her lower lip in between her teeth in a futile attempt to keep it from trembling.

But she really didn't mean to snap- honest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Kanda's pov: _

Anger had always been easily summoned to him.

It had always seemed as if it was coiled up within him, a furious tightly-wound emotion yearning to lash out in all its terrifying glory, silent and ominous as a sleeping dragon that could be effortless roused by the slightest of disturbances.

This was no exception; and the exasperation that he always felt in dealing with such a loathsome, irritating little Beansprout was all too familiar to him, and he would not realize until their little bout was over that once more he had been just as easily strung and dragged into yet another useless divergence from his quest.

It was a waste of time, and the tattoo emblazoned in bold black on the skin of his chest burned in its place, fluttering steadily with every pulsation of the fierce Japanese warrior blood that ran red and strong in his veins, throbbing in all its passion of living.

Passion- it was strange to him, the feeling itself as opposed to the manner in which he conducted things. Will to live? None. Love for life? None. Spirit? To achieve his goal by any means whatsoever, most certainly.

His father had once told him: Move as swift as the wind, stay as silent as the forest, attack as fiercely like the fire, maintain an unmovable defense like a mountain-_Fuurinkaazaan._

There was only fire in his attack, but in nothing else, and even that fire was cold with the almost mechanical and detached outlook he favored, in all its arrogant haughtiness that was only one more barrier between him and the world. One simply did not leave a vulnerable fortress unguarded to all the enemies that existed unknown and awaiting in the mist, unshielded from possible danger.

…I'm sorry.

He had had nearly enough-Apologies were priceless…in the sense of being easily disposable and false.

"I didn't mean to snap like that"- so cheerless and unhappy.

"Then don't bother talking at all. You're annoying." Kanda snarled scathingly back.

General consensus among the order personnel was that Allen was one of the nicest and friendly exorcists out there, and the fact that he didn't immediately scream back did do him a bit of credit. But not much.

"…I said I was sorry."

Kanda never trusted anyone that apologized excessively, especially since apologies were so easily fabricated and meaningless.

All lies, all lies- his parents had always told him that eating fish would make one smarter, as all Asian parents were wont to counsel to their impressionable and filial children, but all that salmon and mackerel and bass had yet to prove themselves advantageous to him in any manifested way. Fish was an acquired taste, anyhow, like _wasabi_ and _natto_- and he still couldn't stand the sticky and bitter taste of the lattermost, especially its nauseatingly foul and sour cheesy smell that was not unlike that of overflowing sewers. And then there was _kusaya..._it had a strangely mellow and unremarkable taste though for something that was of such a terrible odor.

Contrary to the legends and folklore and praises sung of great samurai, Hara-kiri was just a glamorized way of providing escape when all was lost, a simple abet painful method of Japanesely 'saving face' when confronted with great tribulations and barriers, the greatest and most insurmountable of which was dignity.

'_When one's honor is unable to be maintained any longer, death is the only other solution.' _Of course, the samurai of yore believed this down to the last man. According to Rabi, they were not the smartest of people.

"So…if an akuma blasts your balls off with a bullet, does that mean you have to kill yourself?" Rabi had asked him once.

"…_Urusai_." While _that-_ he couldn't voice it out loud without wincing- was certainly dishonorable and most of all, humiliating, Kanda wasn't all that sure of the standardized and mandated definition of dishonor, if there was one. That was what he parents had told him, and that was what he believed without question.

Kanda was always aware that the never-say-die West clucked and clicked their tongues at such a tradition, denouncing it from lack of respect for human life to brainwashed, obsessive behavior enforced by archaic cultural institution.

But that was where seppuku fell short- Redemption couldn't be sought if one was dead, and redemption in another life was pointless- jigoku was for sinners, and reincarnation with spirits and all that whatnot was something that Shintoism trumped Christianity in.

And was even that all lies? His own thoughts, even, manipulated by circumstances and his own mind, degenerating until the point when he couldn't even trust himself?

"Kanda?" Allen whined- or _whinged_, as his native British kinsmen were inclined to say- pathetically. Then, "You're mad at me again…"

"…You're a nitwit." It wasn't the first time he'd caught himself repeating the same halfhearted insults to someone who seemed to brush them off.

But one can easily forget it all, that everything was just falsehoods when it was just too easy to believe, reality was twisted and manipulated to suit one's bedazzled gaze.

The Japanese exorcist grimaced, the truth of it all hitting hard as ever as he stared unabashed and quite disturbed at the Beansprout.

Who looked in ill health, and in as horrible a condition as he had ever seen the kid in- had the idiot been in his right mind, Kanda would have wagered that he would had been a lot more polite and but paradoxically less docile.

When wide and moist pupils the color of such a clear glassy blue were trained on him like that, it made everything seem all the more genuine and convincing in an entirely superficial way.

Of course, the fact that the apology came from a hypocritical exorcist who had with his own hands created an akuma sort of detracted from it. By far.

On just about anyone else, such a fever-glazed look would have appeared sensual in a vulnerable way. Entirely chaste and innocent in its blatantly understated sensuality.

Kanda could not help but stare, in disgusted fascination, as Allen softly bit his lower lip and looked uncertainly at him, almost in apprehension of being yelled at again. Again, he would reiterate that his momentary interest in the Beansprout was of the appalled sense only, like one couldn't help but to pick at healing sore. Under the excuse of letting it heal cleanly. 

Indeed he had noticed before the Beansprout was sick to some degree, as his skin was hot and flushed with fever. On the younger exorcist, it looked nothing short of _retarded_, or at the very least _confused_.

But the Beansprout did look quite…interesting, at the very best. A vision enough to generally interest him, if only for the fact that he had not recognized it before as to be of much significance. At least, not significant in this strange new way that nearly disgusted him, and it was not just the unusual vulnerability of said Beansprout's condition.

Blankly shining doe eyes, half shadowed by long and lazy dreamers' eyelashes; jade-pure skin so white and with an unusual amount of crimson airbrushed onto flushed soft cheeks; lips, the color of pink coral.

Unconsciously asking for trouble, for a more unscrupulous person to ravage a sweet and tempting mouth while it was still that vulnerable, the little beauty caught in the throes of illness and unable to retaliate.

That was, if he was waxing poetic about entirely unappealing features that had absolutely no right whatsoever belonging on a boy in the first place.

Kanda had never denied that Allen was a decently attractive boy, one that could turn even Rinali's head, but honestly such a description made his stomach churn uneasily, and he wondered if he would have viewed such an attractive specimen of another human being differently had it been of the right gender.

Although it was not hard to view Allen Walker as female at all- a fact that had always disturbed him to no end.

'The heart of a girl- too damageable.' Although he had to admit that if Allen had been a girl he would have been quite stunning, as his traitorous eyes had pointed out to him on more then one occasion.

Emotional, effeminate people had always got on his nerves-He wanted to kill the kid to spare humankind his stupidity and genetic contribution. Not that he cared much for humankind, but still.

"Che. Once a fool, always a fool." He only said, repeating what he had said to him before earlier in the chapel.

"Let's try to be civil to each other, please." The Beansprout said halfheartedly. "Although I can't say I blame you for feeling that way. I'm a cursed person to be around."

"…" It wasn't as if he wasn't already informed of that fact.

The Beansprout shrugged off his hand and staggered over to the window, mouth in a straight line when he pushed the curtain aside to reveal a dim glow of angrily flaring torches from the mob below. Kanda was not surprised when he winced, clutched his head, and slowly slumped against the wall. He made no move to help, though.

Then, in softer tones from under a white curtain of hair obscuring his small face, almost a whimper. "Everyone I'm close to ends up dying."

"…" _But everyone dies, poor naïve little fool_. That much he wanted to tell him, but the Japanese exorcist decided to withhold that for now, because blowing up at someone who let everything in one ear and out the other was useless.

Fucking self-pity was something he could never stand, for all the lack of self-worth it expressed for the speaker.

He had always figured from day one that Allen Walker was a hypocritical little brat that didn't know the world enough to pretend that he could possibly understand it in that oversimplified way of his, where everything was cleanly cut out in black and white and good and evil and complete opposite polarities.

That was, in a way, little more than repression of thoughts that never had a chance to make itself manifest in the ugliest ways of self-doubt, since Allen never let it be; no, he absolutely must quash it down with an inflexible sense of values that was as corrupt as everyone else's were. Black and white, Noah or exorcist, if it's not _this_ than it's _that_- and there was no room for the _other_.

When the two contrasting differences could not be distinguished or reconciled into a single conceivable purpose, then that was when the entire theory collapsed in on itself.

And the boy _claimed_ in no uncertain terms that he was fighting for others, when it was only out of a sense of self-gratification, a sense of arrogant self-importance that in his own little tiny way as a tiny little presence in such a big world could he be useful.

The world could care less- nothing was all the fluffy romance that innocent people like Allen believed in. Heroism and beauty were all perceived only through pure eyes that didn't know any better but were content with being fed the same visions over and over again until they became a little bit more credible.

…and the joylessly fake, but still reassuringly _there_ smile of Allen's was grating on Kanda's nerves. It was too true and too human that he couldn't stand looking at it for long without retching.

Because as much as the Beansprout said his pretty words of inspiration and whatnot, his smile was just as tainted as everything else was- but somehow, Kanda had the feeling that it shouldn't look like that, and hadn't looked like that in the first place.

Kanda furrowed his brow, nearly entirely sure that Allen had not been informed of Rinali's precarious situation. The thought of telepathy was frightening, but with his unusual akuma-like abilities it could not be discounted.

"Did you know that Rinali-?" He broke off, highly discomfited.

"Know what about Rinali?"

"…She likes you."

He hadn't meant to say that -especially since Rinali had only confided to him and him alone after he had caught her outside Allen's living quarters at midnight- but it was the best that he could do to not arouse Allen's suspicion. The last thing they needed was a distraught exorcist that happened to be crying too much to even see akuma.

Although a slight bit of resentment suddenly colored his thoughts- Rinali was close to Allen, and people near the brat got hurt on a more frequent basis because he was the destroyer of time. The order may have or mayn't have been destroyed because the Earl was combing through all possible locations to find the so-called prophesized exorcist That alone was enough for him to blame him for.

She likes you- That was the most of the truth that he could say- he couldn't bring himself to break the bad news, even if it was unconfirmed and based on hearsay from Toma. Saying it aloud would mean that she probably was dead- he didn't want her to be, as annoying as she was at times.

"Rinali likes-Eh…_What_?!"

It seemed like news to the normally oblivious exorcist, and Kanda was not entirely surprised because he was merely daft like that.

"You're _stupid_ if you didn't see it, really." It was very, very sad that somehow_ that_ of all things was not news to the Beansprout.

"I can't like her _like that_." Much to his surprise, Allen looked highly uncomfortable than he already looked, the feverish flush on his face slightly deepening.

"Che. I could care less."

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Mana had died, her mother had died, and no doubt more would. Who would be next?- Master Cross? One of her fellow exorcists? The Earl was already closing in on those unfortunate people related to her in one way or another, and was deliberately looking for 'the Destroyer of Time."

Not Allen Walker, but the prophesized hero that she was not.

She wondered if Kanda had brought the subject of Rinali up on purpose in a fit of cruelty, if just to remind her that there were people close to her who could possibly face such a fate.

But he was not cruel, unlike the fiendish Rhode whom was unsubtly deliberate in her torture of others, nor did he subscribe to sadistic tendencies intending to receive pleasure from their pain.

It was simply artlessness on his own part, or more like a lack of tact that could easily be misunderstood by people that were not preemptively informed of his difficult nature- not that she understood him very much, but their level of acquaintance was certainly more than that between the cold exorcist and the finders, all of which were not all very fond of him at all.

And negligence on her own part to be so surprised- she couldn't exactly say that she had foreseen such a complication posed in Rinali Li of all people. Rabi, perhaps, because he was not above snooping and had been getting closer to her as of recent, but not her.

Rinali who always had a ready smile for her- Allen bowed her head slightly at the thought of it all. Had it all been just because she was Allen Walker?-

-The boy that Rinali secretly held a flame for? Or was it for herself as a person? It was much like the Earl's outlook, whom was after her because she was an exorcist, not a person- an apostle of a falser God, in Noah-esque terminology.

While it was fairly flattering that another girl would take such an interest in her, she couldn't help but think that those feelings- and trust- was badly misplaced in someone. If anything, it was emotionally abusive for Rinali, and not telling her the truth was only taking advantage of unrequited affections that were never meant to exist in the first place.

The Allen that Rinali loved was not her, but merely a fabrication that in the very end that was meant to deceive and as an useless armor from troubles she wasn't strong enough to directly face.

But that didn't mean she was strong enough as a boy either.

She had wronged her friend so much, by deceiving her, and now Rinali's heart was going to pay the price if she ever found out.

Moreover, it was for the older girl's own good if she didn't get close to someone like her.

"I can't like her _like that._" She said, and immediately regretted it, afraid that he would take it the wrong way and think that she was gay. He was certainly conservative enough to be disgusted by that, and she was already enough of an aberration in his eyes.

"Che. I could care less."

"Um…I didn't mean it that way." She hastily added, quickly to deter any thoughts of his. "I meant-"

She broke off, more than a little confused. Well, it certainly was true that she didn't like women, but she wasn't all that sure she really liked men either, as spending time with her master had given her a less than favorable impression of the opposite gender. Kanda didn't exactly help matters either with his bloated ego.

"-I just can't look at other people like that." She finished lamely.

But she had already unconsciously realized it herself: Why did Rinali look at _her_ so, as if she saw something in her that Allen herself was not sure of?

"Hmph."

She wanted to retort something, anything, but a sudden wave of dizziness hit her square between the eyes, and she had to impatiently wait for the pain to subside and the floor to right itself in its proper position first, and her legs to regain their solidity- at the moment they felt as if they had liquidated to some sort of unpleasantly jellylike consistency.

The exorcist blinked- she was fairly certain she had been standing, but she soon discovered to her great embarrassment that she had slumped forward and he was holding her up. Although she couldn't bring herself to mind just how warm his chest was, she immediately wanted to get out of that compromising position.

"Oi…what a damned nitwit." Wasn't that the second time he called her that?

She heard him distinctly sigh in a displeased and terse manner, and through his shirt she felt his voice rumble and vibrate in his chest.

"…I'm…alright..." But her voice lacked conviction, and when she tried to stand on her own, her traitorous body once again betrayed her, refusing to move like the big useless lump that it was. Her head seemed too heavy to move off where it had laid itself against his shoulder, but he didn't shove her off either like she was expecting him to do.

She couldn't stop trembling, but she dully suspected that it was not just because she was still shocked from the bloodbath that had occurred the moment they had stepped foot into the city and the deaths she couldn't prevent. By now, the chill had permeated through her entire frame, shaking her in its incessantly alternating waves of cold and heat and causing her muscles to throb painfully.

"You have a fever." He snarled at her.

"…I …I do not." Despite all reason she balked at admitting that, entirely blind to her own febrile condition in her wanting to do her duty as an exorcist. She mumbled halfheartedly, the indignity she had meant to express coming out as desperation, that she simply could not do nothing when she was so needed.

"Yes, you do. Don't pretend."

No…they were _not_ going to fight about this, of all things- she would make sure of that.

The two of them were the laughingstock of the order with their spontaneous rows about the most trivial and pointless things, usually initiated by him and his easily-ignited fury. She would not be so offended if he wasn't supposed to know better, being her senior by three years.

Moreover, of all times to be sick, now was one of the very worst times possible when they were short on manpower. She would never let her own personal matters take precedence over her duty.

"…I'm…not letting…you two… fight alone." She found herself saying, barely getting the words out with a tongue that felt dulled and heavy.

"It doesn't matter-We don't need you." He told her coldly. "We don't have time to protect someone who can't protect himself. In this state, you're no better than a civilian."

Just barely, through her now halfways-incoherent mind, she registered _hurt_, although she was not entirely why. They didn't _need_ her. But that was what Allen needed- to _be_ needed.

It was just Kanda being Kanda, and any other time she would have ignored as the pure bullheadedness he was often inclined to display. It was just the fever, just the fever, she attempted to tell herself through the vaguely pulsating pain of her body.

That was all.

And knowing that gave her fleeting strength to break away from him, and stand upright on her now protesting and aching legs, if only in defiance.

And only for a few seconds or so before her much abused body rebelled for the last time.

Vaguely, she felt the weightless sensation of being lifted, of arms carefully and gently sweeping her up before she hit the floor. Wrapping around under her legs and shoulders, warm but not chasing away the cold.

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Good God. I hate switching povs like that. Sorry if it was confusing- I'll try not to do it again if people don't like it. So please r+r and tell me.


	34. Intangible Questions

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man.

A/N: From here on plot starts _really_ developing. I must warn that sometimes it might sound a bit incoherent- there's so many things going on in this story from Allen to the Earl to Mana Walker and even Cross! I've written out quite a buffer of chapters, but the thing is the plot development. I'll try not to make it too crowded, though.

So sorry for the romance fans, but nope, Kanda doesn't find out yet. (Rinali will though- next chapter, I think) I don't think romance should progress too quickly for them- although hate is a form of love.

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Ch. 34

Intangible Questions

The reason why he was so fascinated by the Beansprout's sudden moment of weakness eluded him. Perhaps it was the fact that he had always known better than others that said brat was nowhere as strong as he claimed, in both skill and mind. On his first mission, the Beansprout had already proved himself inadequate- wasn't that enough?

But that didn't deter Kanda from watching him warily from the corner of his eye. Freakish people, cursed people like Allen drew the eye easily- he could blame it all on that, attribute his sudden interest to nothing but a human phenomenon.

A wispy, frail little child-man with a soul stronger than steel despite his relatively docile appearance and mannerisms, but who was one of the weakest people Kanda thought he knew- not that he was very personally acquainted with very many giving his difficult disposition, but still out of all the people he knew Allen was the absolute worst.

'Too fair to worship, too divine to love.' People had to have their celebrities and their idols and people who they looked to as a pillar of support even if they weren't really it.

That was why everyone believed that a person like Allen Walker was their messiah and the one who would take down the Earl, even if everything he did was contrary to his destined role. Kanda knew better- he was no heroic personality, but just a brat.

But still…Mediocrity was such an _insult_ to humanity, unworthy to recognize; it was not specific nor was it outstanding in any way whatsoever, whether for good or bad.

Nobody was ever drawn nor attracted by anything that was so plainly average that it was common. The mundane never inspired interest in all its wonderful simplicity, and it was the _freakily lurid _and the _freakily beautiful_ and the _freakily insane_ that were noticeable from all the other elements of an ordinary day.

Allen just happened to be a _freak_, sort of like that.

Even then, Charisma, the all important factor in life, was all about being a special individual with stunning traits that made one more appealing.

Which meant standing out in any fashion whatsoever.

Being mind-blowingly plain was something that could be an advantage, in that one would never stand out negatively in sharp contrast- an oh-so-embarrassing quality that drew unwanted attention. Sometimes ridiculing, sometimes admiring- but the goal was reached, in a decidedly Machiavellian and/or self-humiliating manner: attention.

Moreover, Allen stood out like a sore thumb with his unusual color of hair, and his cursed eye called even more unwanted attention to him. But that was what ended up bothering Kanda himself about Allen. Because it was fairly apparent that the brat was so different from what was the masculine standard- in that lay the problem.

It was only close up that he finally realized what had been bothering him for a while. Kanda grudgingly decided that it was not so much the little idiot's as it was his own fault, for softening his heart so much.

The standard cloak was two sizes too big and a coarse bulky material suitable for wear and tear of missions; In a way, he was glad for that. That way, he would not pay so much attention to the unusually small exorcist he was carrying in his arms. It was hard not to wonder if when the cloak was off just how thin a body he was holding- for all the food that he ate, the kid did not seem to put on any weight at all, and Chief Jerry never used oils and seasonings sparingly as he preferred taste over health.

The Beansprout's eyes were closed, his breath unnaturally fast and shallow, and because of that Kanda was uncharacteristically and grudgingly gentle as he laid his unconscious colleague on the couch.

They had been provided a lounge for their own personal use, although there was not exactly any place to sleep he supposed the couch would be more than sufficient. Kanda debated whether or not to remove the younger exorcist's cloak, but at last decided not to in favor of leaving the Beansprout alone as soon as possible.

"Mm…don't go."

The Japanese exorcist stood stock still, nearly seething, as his head was unceremoniously jerked backwards by his movement away from the couch, his ponytail secured by some disembodied force. "You dimwit, I need to go fight-"

Surely even in his selfishness- which permeated every action of his from protecting others to his gluttonous habits- Allen could understand that, although Kanda rancorously concluded that perhaps the fever had dulled his already dull brain a little more.

A request, it was, from an unlikely person who should have seen fit to provide for himself before others, asking what Kanda had never offered in the first place. Pleading. Asking. Wanting. Yearning for the compassion that he could never give to anyone.

Rabi, Rinali, Miranda, and even Crowley were all capable of doing so, but he could never summon it up in his icy heart, much less relinquish that part of himself to others.

That was true weakness, not a strength- conviction was an ally, but it was a double-edged sword in that it also turned inwards and involved people in matters left alone. There was no need to sympathize with others when it only caused oneself pain, suffering and angst that one did not need; Only fools truly gave out their feelings like that to bleed freely.

He paused, though, and crouched down next to the couch with an exasperated sigh once he saw that his…colleague didn't seem as if he had even deigned to pay what he had said any attention whatsoever.

A small slender hand had sleepily snatched onto his ponytail with a startlingly tight grip- it was Allen's human hand, and just for a moment Kanda wondered how simple it would be for him to just snap that thin little wrist.

He never did mentally recoil from thoughts of hurting others when necessary, but he did suppose that the Beansprout's condition did make amends, somewhat. Had he been in his right state of mind, the Beansprout would never ask a favor from him, much less latch on in such a feeble fashion.

The kid was just that sort of person- it was almost comical how it was so obvious, his desperation for being accepted.

"…Father? Please…don't go…don't leave me again."

Father?!

Kanda twitched, and ripped his hair out of the seeking grip.

"Who you're calling your father?" He snarled, somewhat angry and resentful and bemused all at once.

"Mana….Father…" The Beansprout shifted uneasily in his comatose state, apparently miserable from more than the discomfort of illness. Then, like a small abandoned child, "…Daddy…"

Allen had nightmares, he found out from a very embarrassed and blushing Rinali when he demanded the reason just why she was lurking furtively outside the Beansprout's door at night. It was only as of recent that Kanda had discovered why, and just as he had presumed, the boy did suffer some sort of guilt.

Kanda had by now become convinced that high blood pressure would get the better of him before the akuma, as he could easily confirm from the fact that even when asleep the Beansprout still annoyed him as ever. It seemed that it was a somewhat innate trait of Allen's to rile him in so effortless a manner it almost was offending, his enthusiasm for saving the world attacking Kanda's own reserved personality.

The boy was very attractive- that much he could…appreciate, for lack of a better word, and that was the only thing he actually found appealing….appealing…or _not_.

Aesthetics were all very well, but he could not bring himself to admire something that was so loathsome to him. The only reason he tolerated his eyes automatically focusing on the Beansprout's physical appearance because it was for the most part more inclined towards a softer and delicate look that was most unusual for men. It was different, that was all- but even still Kanda could not help but be infuriated.

Gods. It was nothing short of…of…_disgusting. _And hard to keep in mind that such a vision of …prettiness…was from another male.

When he saw said boy helpless and ill, he could not help but to notice how his features- the _physical_ portion, that was, or rather the attractiveness of- stood out more than anything.

People were normally more docile and lethargic when sick as well- With all the Beansprout's annoying personality traits keyed down and the normally cheerful but wary demeanor gone, Kanda did not fail to see him as he was with his guard down.

When all those hateful distinctive parts that he attributed with the Beansprout being suppressed, it was a startling contrast.

He discovered that he might almost just prefer the normal boy to this clinging, sick one. Softened by his weak condition, the Beansprout's features now inspired feelings of protectiveness instead of hostility, and Kanda was not accustomed to the suddenness of it all.

Kanda had always held hatred for wimpy boys, the onna-gata and the okama, all of them making him feel just the slightest bit insecure in the knowledge that there were strange people out there like that.

It was almost an affront to the eyes to see such a person who could possibly catch his attention like that, especially if said attention could only be given reluctantly but even then involuntarily. All in all, he was unwilling to find something to like in a person he hated so much.

The kid was an idiot, a weakling and crybaby, and stood for everything he disliked, and most of all he happened to be a boy upon whom some rather strangely feminine traits were wasted.

He was a very pretty, very insane little fool, that much the exorcist was able to admit.

And beyond the inane self-sacrificing tendencies and the empty smile there was no substance.

But Allen being a freak was enough to catch his eye, and that alone was bad enough in itself.

Even then, he didn't know why he paid so much attention to someone who…was not worthy of it. One must harden one's heart as a man, to conquer and defeat all obstacles that one encounters, and he certainly failed in that now.

Treacherous and entirely of its own accord, his fingers reached out, startling himself. Quicker than a snake he snatched it back, half fearful. Even the more angry because he was unaware of what intention he had, of just with what purpose it was that he had stretched out his hand.

To comfort? To soothe a nightmare away, to brush back hair whiter than the snow, to feel skin that he was convinced was soft and supple. All hateful, hateful qualities that were so strange and out of place and somehow that entirely mattered.

Because concern was not something Kanda would muster for another person- he had let too many too close. Because he was not so much afraid of people getting hurt as he was of his ties with others causing himself liabilities.

That was all what it boiled down to, the liability of people whom were too close to be counted as strangers any longer.

So Kanda left. He didn't have time to deal with a sick colleague, anyhow, nor did he have the patience either.

Reason still eluded him though, as well as why he had actually bothered so much. Allen Walker was simply another annoying little boy who was too arrogant to truly see anything. Optimists would only be crushed by the cruel harsh reality of the world.

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_Mana's large broad back- size was all relative, but that was how she remembered him as, from her little child-size looking reverently up at an adult. He was walking away once more from her, and as much as she implored him with her little child-voice, he never looked back. _

_Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. It hurt so much. _

_Alternating waves of fire and frost, washing over her and suffocating her. _

_Like the sea lapping at the beach, curling away with the tide and returning in a redemptive crest, ever flirting with the silvery sand. _

_But the horizon was nothing but pitch-black, with no stars to guide her. Black water_

_And then it was once more the ruins of the Headquarters, and then the blackness parted to reveal a sickly crescent moon. A hand- hers- reaching for it, and then it was all soft and silken and comfortably threaded through her fingers._

_It was wrenched away from her. _

_She fled back into the dark where she had came from._

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Rome, Italy; 2:00 AM

_Bookman's pov:_

Investigating on his own was something he was accustomed to, and it was sometimes even pleasant when his only companion was a cup of coffee to keep him awake- a dark dripping roast, sugarless and smoky and with a classic bitterness on his tongue.

And a pipe, perhaps- once in a while he would smoke like a chimney when Rabi was not around, but only periodically in times of stress. The habit was hard to break, and having something material to keep his fingers occupied was always a bit of comfort when he was uncertain, and it certainly was a better thing to do than rip up paper or napkins or whatever it was.

However, Bookman had hit a dead end, and he nearly wished that his apprentice was in the vicinity to somewhat juggle ideas with him, or even write them down. Rabi did always favor a more tangible form of organizing his thought processes, and if faced with a more complicated situation would actually jot them down.

Rabi's mind and its workings appeared in material and present form on paper, messily scrawled in ineligible script within and outside big bubbles and such shapes that he would proceed to again connect together with lines to define their relationships regarding or directly with each other.

His method capitalized upon working from the most basic facts to form a core of several ideas, and then slowly work outwards into a net of possibilities. In other words, he preferred working backwards from outcomes to what might have happened.

But in lieu of the redhead's presence, Bookman decided to think like Rabi- the young after all usually had better a grip on things than one usually gave them credit for, anyhow, and sooner or later he had a feeling that he would require Rabi's assistance since he himself had no connections nor memories of Mana Walker and thus would provide a unbiased point of view.

He wrote down Mana's name. Circled it in blue ink. Wrote down Allen's. Boxed it in. Connected the two with an inhumanly straight line, labeling it neatly 'father/son'. As an afterthought, he penned _Destroyer of Time_ into the margins of Allen's box.

That pretty much was the extent of his knowledge, and still told him nothing.

The younger exorcists and the newer ones were entirely unacquainted with the scientist; perhaps Rinali might have seen him once or twice, but only at the beginning of her captivity, but otherwise nobody except for Allen Walker had ever been close.

Truly, nobody really knew Mana Walker.

The basic fact was Mana Walker's demise at the hands of the people he served; beyond that was unknown and unfamiliar territory he was nearly afraid to tread on. In fact, the Bookman was investigating of his own accord, and it was not an approved leave granted by the Order itself, but only excused because he was the Bookman and had even more pressing obligations to that occupation then anything else.

In other words, he was investigating the issue of Mana Walker as a _Bookman_ and not as an _exorcist_, which made it all the more dangerous because his interest in the entire affair would be that of an outsider and even if he had worked as an exorcist that would provide no safety for him if the Church was not pleased with his meddling with the past.

As the Bookman had experienced personally, the Clergy did not like people poking in secrets that may make it look bad.

In what had been nearly a decade as the chief of the science department, Mana Walker was attributed with much of the then groundbreaking research.

But despite all, as far as the Bookman was concerned, wringing useful information from such an esteemed personage to very well serve as annotations in history archives was like…

… trying to convince a five-year old Rabi not to suck his thumb because it was absolutely _filthy _and he had just been training outside.

…Stopping General Cross from drinking wine like other people did water and racking up even more debts.

…forbidding Allen to eat any more than just _one_ singular teensy-weensy liddle slice of pie.

…curbing Miranda's frequent intervals of suicidal manic-depression that would eventually end up with her actually attempting to end her life in one pathetic way or another.

…In other words, he might have gotten more out of even Mr. Rock then he would have out of Mana Walker, former Head of the Science Department and the man branded forever as traitor to the highly structured Organization he was truly heart and soul devoted to.

But as great as his prestige was, he always shirked the limelight from under his wide-brimmed top hat and preferred the company of his test tubes and other such equipment to that of the high-ranked black-robed few that ran the day-to-day operations for the Black priests.

As it was, he also happened to be a rather solitary person, privacy-seeking and conducting much of his experiments thanklessly and at times disappearing at odd intervals from the Order on extended home leaves, although general consensus among the lab employees was that he was not very much of a family guy.

The image that most people perceived was warm and gentle, if on the soft-spoken side- that was, until like Allen Walker he worked himself up into a motivated zeal for his duty to protect others by feverishly developing new technologies. It was only in later years that he was branded as 'the Traitor' by the Order; as of previous he had been known as the just as unflattering but sort of endearing nickname "Demon Slavedriver" because of his tendency to coerce his staff into working overtime.

It was sufficient to say that Komui had not picked up on this work habit, to both the great delight and horror of his current personnel.

It was not that Chief Walker was secretive- he was only to a certain extent, but then there was also his evasive persona to the entire world.

It was said that his passion for his cause was sadly the only thing truly remarkable about him in the very end, especially since such an elusive appearance belied any purpose of greatness that he might have hoarded.

This purposeful and masterful indistinctness was his greatest highlight, being a strong testament to his humility despite all; but it was all the more just one more thing that allowed him to be marked to be 'disposed' of by his superiors.

Indeed, there must have been something to hide if so great a man was prosecuted, and even the more so because the charges were completely bogus if not completely fabricated. Usually, with all the power the church possessed, it would be able to absorb any to all of the consequences that a scandal would bring about.

Unless it was of Newtonian proportions, so that Mana Walker posed a threat.

You always had to watch for the quiet ones, didn't you? Bookman could not help but see the irony in that.

The elusive man had made his impact on life as it was despite his low-key presence the finders' akuma-trapping devices had been for the most part proposed by him and later was perfected by his successor Komui into the light-emitting boxes that were so in use now; He was partly to blame for Komui's love of prototype robots with his own periodic tinkering in artificial life-forms to do one's bidding; Much of the research in the Earl's methods of creating akuma had been attributed to him.

But of all his projects, he had not finished a single one- came close to finishing, of course, but he had never truly produced any finished products. They all understood time had to budgeted, and there were other bigger things that he had to tend to in his duty, but he had pioneered many different technologies.

It stood to say much how he had abandoned them after a while.

There was the mundane everyday sort of project, and then there were the long-term ones that Chief Walker continued in the stead of his predecessors, and then at the very last there was the classified top-secret projects that not even the Bookman's status would allow him privy to.

The orders and commands for the lattermost came from the very top, unlike the other projects which were usually left to the supervisor's or the Chief's own discretion due to either necessity or interest.

The Bookman would not exactly call the Black-robed Figures whom dominated the Organization 'executives,' but that in a way was exactly what they were, and the Clergy was much more commercialized and focused upon expanding a loyal base of support in worshippers than actually exterminating akuma- exorcists were in actuality just a very little offshoot branch of the church itself.

But they- those figures of authority- had themselves ordered Mana Walker's completion of said classified projects and then later, due to undisclosed reasons regarding those projects, had denounced the very man they had ordered around.

It was too rich, what Bookman already knew- the prospect of what he didn't know and needed to know had a vast gap in between.

He wanted more, wanted to know just what had gone on behind the closed doors of the Headquarters when Mana Walker was present, doors that were all uniform and set in standardized frames issued by a single supplier.

But what had occurred behind them may have well been not so standardized as it was, as if there had been foul play under a jurisdiction that was supposed to be all good and all happy golden cherubs in the entire wholesome image that the Order tried to present to the world.

If there was something rotten in the state of the Organization and it was not brought to light, it meant that it possibly had been** overlooked** on purpose, the Bookman realized. And when it got too big…there was too the issue of how Mana Walker was involved in the entire nasty stew.

But it wasn't as if the Bookman was overly fond of conspiracy theories- that was more along Rabi's specialty as the kid was at an age when he didn't trust authority of any sort.

Perhaps he would be better off summoning the boy to aid him in the investigation in the very end- Rabi's ties with Allen Walker would also do a world of good although personally the Bookman was reluctant to so early on bring the angle of the Destroyer of Time into the messy equation as it was, it being a little bit too coincidental that he be adopted as a child by the man who was supposed to be a traitor to the Order.

His golem was slow and sluggish and the library provided the worst service possible, and the Bookman cursed the fact that service was always available in the places where people would be least likely to make full use of it; the example of the headquarters could be cited in that the best place to make calls (as Rabi insisted) was supposedly of all places the _ladies_' powder room in the west wing of the basement.

Of course, the Bookman was not very inclined to be enlightened on just how Rabi was acquainted with that little piece of information.

"…Pick up. Rabi." He barked into the golem when the answering utility was activated. It was possible that the apprentice was engaged in more pressing activities as trying not to be shot dead, as Vienna was supposedly the most akuma-infested area in all of Europe. "Well, when you are less occupied please make yourself available to call me, regarding a… potential mission in our work as bookmen."

The Bookman had omitted the word 'investigation' on purpose and as many details as possible, as precautionary measures in case if the wire was tapped by an outside party; any facts he would need to inform Rabi about would have to wait until a secured and private line was connected, and/or they met in person.

With a sigh, he hung up and called the next possible exorcist, whom happened to be Kanda. After a few minutes of only hearing the dial tone, he reasoned that the Japanese exorcist had always had little liking to be contacted and must have shut his off.

Calling Timcanpi was out of the question- Allen had remarked before that his very much eccentric Master Cross had blocked just about everyone's number off and had locked the function so that it would be impossible to change, and thusly only he could make outward calls but not receive any.

In the Bookman's opinion, that entirely defeated the purpose of owning a golem.

It came to mind that Crowley was also assigned to the mission as backup, and of all the newer exorcists he was a fairly responsible, if slightly bipolar, adult, and the Bookman was fairly certain that he would be able to be contacted.

Two minutes later, the Bookman was nearly entirely convinced that Lady Luck was having fun at his expense as Crowley was unable to be reached at all- there was no dial tone in the slightest, but merely a message that stated in a dulcet synthetic voice that the number did not even exist.

He at the very last figured that calling upon his apprentice for assistance would have to wait.

In another stroke of bad luck, an unusually chilly wind swept in the open window and with strange force knocked his amassed books and scrolls, all of which were precious and aged archived information, off onto the ground. He let out an undignified groan as one of the books immediately fell apart- perhaps due to its spine being weakened from having several pages torn out already- and the contents dispersed about the room.

Blank.

All blank pages, glistening white and pristinely untouched, about the room.

There had been nothing written inside the elegantly bound book, or at the very least what had been written had been unceremoniously torn out already.

It was nothing but a blank spreadsheet type of paper- perhaps that meant for lab purposes or something along the lines to that effect, as the Bookman could easily conclude from his acquaintance with Komui. From what he suspected, it had been some sort of formal lab log, the sort not for the everyday recording of data but instead the accumulated archiving of, in that it was the sort of report one would present to higher-ups when a brief was necessary to inform them of progress.

And what made it all the more suspicious was the fact that the embossed cover stated the fact that it was dated from the years that Mana Walker had exerted his jurisdiction over the science department.

An empty book, with the front torn out so that there was no longer any content in it; A scientist who had been tried and been found guilty by his superiors who had ordered him to proceed with top-secret experiments; The fact that all information regarding that scientist was guarded jealously by people who destroyed it; Last of all, the fact that nobody really knew anything about the classified projects Walker had been working on shortly before his trial.

The last point was what had led to the man's being denounced. Anything else would be uncertain. For now, the Bookman would entertain the notion of the possibility of an inside influence in all this.

"…What's this?" His gnarled and age-spotted hand paused on the useless cover, the binding glue of which had worn away and revealed the fact that whomever had torn out the pages had been careless.

The back cover had something written on it, in a smeared dark sort of brownish-red ink- no, now that he pushed his glasses further up on his nose, he realized that it probably was not ink at all but human blood.

"'_Rakuen?'"_ He wondered aloud, staring at the unfamiliar handwriting and scratching his head in quite an undignified manner, startled at why anyone would write that in so unconventional a place.

Then he smiled grimly, the first sort of satisfaction he'd had in days. Perhaps that _had _been the point all along- obscurity was the best protection for anything dangerous worth knowing. "…_Paradise_?"

He had been nearly entirely sure that there were very few people in the Order whom were acquainted with the Japanese language well enough to be familiar with that word- it was not exactly something a person who was only adept enough to speak the most rudimentary of phrases to use.

Kanda was the only native speaker as far as he knew whom ever joined the Order- he was as far as the Bookman knew, the only Japanese person ever ordained an exorcist.

The Japanese people were among the more skeptical, as they had a cultural folklore in which akuma were more like youkai, their land spirits and monsters, and their version of exorcism would be rituals performed by their _onmyouji_. The presence of onmyouji supposedly eliminated whatever need there ever was for an exorcist, and even if they did need one, tradition would forbid them from seeking foreign aid.

Other than Kanda, he knew that Rabi was decently skilled to the point of making proper usage of the complex idioms (the criteria to being a Bookman's Apprentice required knowledge of multiple languages) and Rinali was familiar with the kanji system.

But it was apparent that few others were knowledgeable to that degree in Japanese, with Marian Cross as an exception, as the man was to practically everything. Japan was a fairly isolated country, and it was only as of recent that the Order had begun to spread their operations there, even.

Outside it started raining, a great downpour that began without warning and was hearkened only by the twittering of birds seeking refuge. The Mediterranean climate was identifiable by its hot dry summers, during which Romans fled to cooler areas like the seaside to spend their days, and their wet cool winters, during which the area received the majority of its rainfall after an arid year.

"So, winter's here early, this year." The bookman mused, setting the papers he picked up back on the table and shutting the window.

So much for the _ottobrate_, the warm and breezy autumn days for which the region was known for in that they possessed the most comfortable sort of climate.

The book- had it once contained something that the Order felt was so dangerous to itself- they could care less for any other motive- that it had to be eliminated? Had Mana Walker been the same?- secrets, secrets, secrets, and this Rakuen was one of them.

The 'Paradise' referred to in the book- whatever it was, would it be more of a hell than anything else?

Few would know- Cross Marian was one. Komui another. Rinali was a far cry, but she had a much more intimate knowledge of secret projects than nearly anyone else, with the exception of her brother, since she had been imprisoned in the lab to be observed and prodded with needles by scientists when she first entered- not of her own accord- the ranks of exorcists.

It looked as if it would be long before anyone would be warm again. And even then, how many of them would survive the impending cold?

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Hope you all liked this new turn in events a.k.a my pitiful attempt at moving the story on. Please r+r as usual. Also, I'd like some feedback on Bookman's character. And does anyone know what color Cross's eyes are?


	35. Ave Maria

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and +alerts/favs! And especially thanks to those who replied to my questions...I decided to stick with gold for Cross's eye color, just to make a distinction from Rabi. This chapter took eons to write for me...Rinali turned out to be pretty difficult, when things are solely from her point of view. And yes, there is lots of Rhode in this chapter. And a bit of Cross. I had to wing Cloud Nine since honestly, we don't see much of her and it doesn't look as if we're going to get much.

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Ch 35.  
Ave Maria

"…I feel bad for lying to everyone. Especially my friends. Rinali most of all, because she trusts me the most. I wonder, if had it been under other circumstances, would we able to be friends? Girl talk, that sort of pleasant thing that I have never experienced before, although I do get on uncommonly well with people of both genders- look like a boy but with no trouble identifying with and interacting with other girls. At the least I don't have communication problems like a certain Japanese exorcist with a temper- but then again I've gotten pretty bold over the years; there's no time to be timid when you have to pay off debts, and brutality in playing cards is only a plus…"

-Excerpt from Allen Walker's Diary

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"…_You're lying." Rinali stammers out through a tongue weighted down with the lead of despair and the numbness of poisonous hope, that they would be merciful and tell her the truth._

_They're being purposefully cruel to her, telling her this._

_Rabi had told her before that Rhode was highly proficient and extremely accurate in pinpointing and honing down to a human's weakness, and exploiting it in any barbaric way that suited her caprices at the moment. To hear it was one thing, but to experience it on a first-hand level was entirely different altogether. _

_"Tell me about it, _girlfriend_." Rhode says it mockingly and giggles, her toothy smile all honey and venom dripping together in the same cloying mix. _

_The dimunitive Noah twirls on unscuffed and still immaculate patent-leather Mary Janes, not regarding the way her poofy gothic-lolita skirt flips up in the wind that blows and caresses Rinali's cheek and the wounds there with reckless and painful abandon. Rhode is a girl without any cares like this, and it is evident that she is taking lots and lots of pleasure in seeing her suffer- Rinali wonders if the little girl was even old enough to have harbored an unrequited crush on anybody. _

_They were lying- if one analyzed the situation carefully, one would see that there was no reason why they would tell her the truth, being the Noahs that they were. But she is no Bookman with his endless rhetorical analysis, no Rabi with his sophistry. She is Rinali with her trusting heart, and one is always more inclined in a twisted sort of way to least trust the person one loves. _

_Rhode looks positively ghastly in all her demented childlike glory, her shrill and girlish laughter imbued with the melodious, light timbre of genuine amusement._

_"…Rero! She's been duped-rero!" _

_The little Noah and her mental degenerate of an umbrella are really, really entertained by this, and Rinali can most definitely see why. _

_Admitting the problem is the first step to curing it, but she doesn't want to, since denial has always been the cocoon which she has used to wrap herself in until the storm of her own feelings blows over, either that or she forgets._

_More likely the latter- but she doesn't think that she'd forget anytime soon._

_"No…you're LYING!!!" She nearly rips the hair out from her head, so hard is she clutching the long strands that don't feel as soft and smooth as they should be. And indeed they don't because they are covered with the dust and sweat and blood of the battle that has ended already in the physical world, but not in her mind. _

_"Miss Rhode doesn't lie, rero!!!" Rero insists loudly. Screams it in her face as it totters up to her, and Rinali can barely muster up enough strength to swipe at it. Rero, shrieking, bounces back into the hands of a smug-looking Rhode. _

_"Wahahaha! The question is, do you like girls??" _

_Rhode sounds aggravatingly superior, and if Rinali was able to stand and if she was not very inclined towards venting anger on any guilty or innocent party, she'd smash her smirking little face in with several enbu kirikazes. But as it is, she can't. _

_"Lemme rephrase…do you like her because she's Allen Walker, or because...ah. I dunno." Rhode continues, sadistically. "A potential boyfriend? But you know that boys have cooties, don't you?"_

_She couldn't even muster up the strength or heart to even bristle. _

_Lying on the ruins of the tower, the home in which nobody lives anymore, Rinali can do nothing but let the tears slip unbidden and unheeded down her cheeks to mingle with her own blood. _

_"…How did it all come to this?!" She whispers. _

_Sad. Questioning. Tragic, but it is her own tragedy and her own stage. _

_But Rhode doesn't answer, nor does Rero, which is blabbering on and on about some topic of its own choosing. Rhode points the umbrella's tip at her; Rero whines in protest._

As her brother Komui had feared, they were all too much even for her years of training. Even with the aid of another exorcist, a good two dozen akuma, all of them well on the process to evolving, were a formidable force that even her Dark Boots were unable to fight for long.

But still, Rinali knew that she had to fight, for not only her sake but the entire Order staff. They needed time to escape, and she would grant it.

"Innocence, activate!"

The crush of impact of her feet smashing though an akuma's head lacked the fitting grace of a dancer, and she had always wondered how ugly it looked- something so beautiful as movement, that could possibly kill.

She rarely felt like fighting; did it because she had an obligation and reason to, but the actual act itself was unpleasant to her. Even Rhode- so righteously hateful in her conviction that exorcists were of a falser god- would be difficult to slay just because she was human like her.

Enbu Kirikaze was an aesthetically appealing attack as well as a dangerous one, and while loveliness had no place in battle, Rinali had always seen the beauty in destruction. It had always been inappropriately effortless to spot, especially since she had known it all her life.

The earth of her homeland China was deep and always full of a strong, discreet underlying lifeforce; Her native western Hubei had been arguably one of the loveliest places of all, in which the wonder of the Creator's hand could easily be seen from the gorgeous landscape that rolled for miles on in white frothy water and tremulous dipping cliffs until it all became one with the East China Sea, flowing into golden sand and deep azure.

The Three Gorges had been as much a part of her childhood in China as her brother Komui was; Its smooth-headed and snow-white river dolphins were as much her friends as the people in her village were, and she had played on the shores of the Yangtze river with only the souls of the drowned protecting her from a fate similar to theirs.

The layers and layers of rock that paved the jagged sides of the cliffs lining the asymmetrical boundaries of water and land spoke of archaic times as well as change, and it all reached up to the sky in verdant overhanging clouds; She remembered the mist curling around her hands as she reached forward to pet the bejeweled spray of a clear, nearly immaterial waterfall that was located not a few meters from her house; and then further down the river there were the fierce torrents that were all white-water fury and immensely strong in all its natural vehemence- Komui had always warned her not to go near it with fear coloring his normally calm voice.

But she had never seen why he had been so frightened of the beauty of nature- although it could rip people apart, send them to sleep with the fishes that swam below in silvery schools on the ruins of many a fishing boat that had been captured and dragged down by the water.

But the Yangtze was the river she knew and loved; it would never hurt her, at least not deliberately.

But the worst wounds of all were all unwitting and committed unawares and more often than not blinded by personal emotions, which was why those were the ones that stung the worst and kept on opening up over time as if salty seawater had been splashed over them.

Imperial in its majesty and serene in its danger- she'd always loved that combination, but big brother had always insisted with a loving sigh that she didn't know how to look after herself.

Which she probably didn't.

She had seen the wild storm that the river could be, but never could bring herself to hate it even after a particularly tremendous overflow had washed away life as she knew it and left her and her brother orphans. Later, they had said it was akuma, not a flood, discrediting further how the river could possibly hurt her.

And then the opium came with the white people, drugging minds with its cloying smoke and offer of an escape from reality. Outside influence on internal policies became more and more prominent- an imminent product of greedy westerners and their imperialism and open-door policies, with bayonets carving her beloved land up into spheres for foreign nations to control. China no longer was _Tian Xia_, but there was other nations under the same blue sky that they could no longer try to ignore, and being confronted with their own lack of technology was the breaking point.

A genius like her big brother was what China needed, to resolve Anglo-Chinese relations.

But Big Brother Komui had been out at a study group for the imperial examinations when the men in black cloaks and crosses came. The meritocracy demanded the best of, and the best to become their scholar officials, but Rinali had never had any doubt that he would have been one of the best- after all, the master he had been apprenticed to had remarked once to her that her brother had the potential to become the smartest man in the country, and one of their most brilliant scholars.

And so she was surprised, but also relieved in a self-gratifying, selfish way when she saw him at her bedside years later, sitting in an Order Scientist's uniform with a sad smile on his face.

_Then Rinali sees lightning. _

_And it is red._

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_Ave Maria, gracia plena  
Maria, gratia plena  
Maria, gratia plena  
Ave, ave dominus  
Dominus tecum _

It would have been more merciful if Rhode had killed her, but to throw her into a state caught between existence and death was more painful than any broken bones and mortal wounds could possibly be.

It was pure and utter limbo, lonesome and ripping her mind apart with every second she was in it, since in the face of nothing of nothingness there was little to do other than slowly self-destruct in the worst way possible.

Nothing to do but turn inwards, to throw herself to the wolves of her inner self, to leave her to her own traitorous thoughts, the greatest of all was self-doubt and doubt of people whim she would never before had even dared to have misgivings about.

Had battered her body, broken it, and torn it to pieces.

She would have preferred corporeal damage rather than be trapped in the recesses of her own mind, since in the deep depths of her own psyche there was no light, and it was frightening. She'd always been comfortable with the dark, but not this sort of weighty, despairing sort of darkness, in which there was no hope for rescue.

But then the sky had been swallowed up by Rhode's own little world, as twisted and infantile as the young girl was.

The sensation of falling, down ever down, and with a hint of morbidity she wondered just which circle of hell she would land into.

Because as much as the Order had insisted and as much as Allen proclaimed in long-suffering tones that he wanted to protect all he could, Rinali knew that killing was wrong, even if akuma were already dead withered scraps of their former selves to begin with.

Lollipops and oversized dolls and parasols and such puerile representations of a never-ending childhood invoked a tinge of sympathy, misplaced as it was, for Rhode- a pitiful corrupt child of many years still willingly locked within her own time frame.

But Rinali saw where childishness was concerned a black, black heart peeking out in great contrast to the juvenility of the surroundings- the dolls were broken, the lollipops cracked and shattered in all their solid sugary consistency, and Rhode stood in the middle of it all in her little gothic-lolita outfit, as if she could turn back time by using immaturity as her avatar to the world.

No doubt the Noah could, Rinali thought dully, because this was not the real world. The real world didn't hurt so much; but inside, Rhode controlled all.

And suddenly, she was no longer in Rhode's twisted little room, but was wherever the sadistic girl had decided to spirit her off to, and despite Rinali's steadfast grip upon her sanity by insisting over and over that nothing was real, she felt her resolve rapidly disintegrating as she began to lose contact with reality.

All because it was too real and too close to her heart that she was nearly unable to defy what her bespelled eyes saw.

The black water that seemed to crawl up and invite her into its slithering and untruthful arms, wanting to take her down into its depths and trap her there. The ripples that she saw cutting through the deep color of the surface in silvery waves mirrored the people close to her heart's faces briefly- Komui's toothy grin, Reever's groan (the kind upon seeing more paperwork that was overdue) , Rabi's flashing wink, Kanda's grumpy scowl, Allen's slow smile, Miranda's sweet and shy stammering, Crowley's nervously-darting eyes- before they dissipated after the water was disturbed.

And then the ruins, so much like the Headquarters that had only recently ceased to be, in which there was nobody but her to watch over like a silent and sad guardian of ages past. It echoes real life too closely, emulating it all down to the most minute of details from the deserted emptiness to the fact that only she was left behind. Of her own accord, nonetheless, but she was alone as ever with not even the detached sterility of the order to cling to- even that in all its coldness was at the very least familiar to her.

But nothingness was not something she could fight, and Rinali had been a fighter all her life, so lacking a clear and present oppression in her sight to destroy was most puzzling and vexing.

There was something very, very wrong, Rinali realized, with it all, and the disgruntled and frustrated tears slipped down her cheeks unchecked and unhindered.

They could maim her and force her and slap her around until her delicate skin was mottled with black and blue, but depriving her of all kindness and human tenderness was the very worst punishment and torture that could be inflicted on her.

The people close to her were her world, more real and more comforting than the real world itself. Even if the real world was saved, and none of her friends were in it, she would truly be dead.

It meant that there would be nothing else for her, since all her motivation was on a completely personal basis of self-gratification for protecting the people around her, and if she was unable to have even that, then she had no more reason to live.

"Interesting isn't it. Well, this is what your precious Organization really looks like." Rhode purred, appearing right next to the exorcist, sitting too close for comfort and too close for Rinali to kick her. The diminutive Noah chuckled at her indignant and furious sputtering, and surprisingly descended on the lake to alight gently upon its surface with nary a disturbance or ripple of the water. "By the way, y'know this is my world and so it's my rules- don't be surprised that I can land on water."

"…' Mocking her dark boots' skill and marginalizing it to the extent of making it insignificant- Rinali recognized a vague if hidden edge to Rhode's demeanor, not quite so hostile but disturbing nonetheless, perhaps even all the more so because it was Rhode and she was smiling as if everything was one entire funny joke.

"Your order's like this- exactly. Decay and corruption and death, all of that- don't tell me you never realized it, Rinali, because you do." Rhode's red-trimmed smile was thin and flat and cuttingly wicked as a razor blade dripping with blood.

"Says the one whose… _patriarch_…creates akuma and preys on humans' sorrow." Rinali shot back passionately; She could think of no other word but that other than some very vulgar ones to describe the morbidly obese and ridiculous-looking Earl of the Millenium. "For you of all people to say that, isn't it going a bit far?"

To her surprise, Rhode looked ever so slightly stunned for a moment, before she replaced her slack-jawed expression with a smirk that was not unlike Kanda's- arrogant and condescending, not to mention as haughty as a monarch.

"…You poor, poor little thing." Rhode told her, shaking her head pityingly. "You poor idiot- they've really fucked you up, didn't they."

"What do you mea-" Rinali paused, horrified that she would even entertain doubts against her beliefs and what all she fought for stood for in her mind.

She remembered memories, all unpleasant and spawned from an organization that she used to fear. Of chains and straitjackets and dark rooms and manacles and combat trails and lessons and loneliness and the absence of Komui and dried tears that ran down her face that she couldn't wipe away because she was restrained in a cell….

If Rhode meant it like that, yes, she had been fucked up all right.

All terrible memories rushing forth like a tsunami all at once, at the bidding of Rhode who only needed her words to prompt such things to surface from the depths of her mind where Rinali had desperately pushed them down.

And most of all, the memories of the dark boots that even now were worn on her feet; the worst memories were associated with them, of what she had been forced to do and how they were the impetus to her being dragged away from her brother and village and river and dolphins and taken to her one-person cell.

"You remember don't you? Remember the tagiochi? Remember how they made you go without food for a week because you refused to fight akuma? Remember the needles they prodded you with, the drugs they force fed you to keep you quiet? Remember?"

Rinali shook her head obstinately, tears falling ever thicker as she tried to deny everything, refusing to acknowledge what Rhode was telling her. Why-why would she do that? If only to live in the little bubble world of existence formed by only her loved ones, and not to care about how genuine Rhode seemed to be about the entire issue.

Rhode prissed about, flouncing here and there in her self-satisfaction. She turned sharp golden eyes- cat irises- upon her and grinned. "But you do remember don't you? The fall. How it was to stand on the windowsill with your bare feet cold and freezing on the iced-over stone, and breathe in the cold wind that entered and cut up your lungs, to-"

"Stop it, stop it. Please." The same burningly slow, aching words that struck such a raw nerve, long untouched.

"-To put one foot over the edge, and since that was a novelty after such a long time of confinement-"

"I said stop it."

"-and to finally jump, and when you fell you felt so free and easy as if finally nothing was going to hurt you then, and that rock bottom was not the very bottommost one could ever fall, before you were finally leaving your personal hell-"

"STOP IT!!!" Rinali all but shrieked at her, interrupting as intended Rhode's leisurely and painfully slow rendition of a suicide attempt she had never forgotten. "…Just please. Stop it. Shut up."

There should have been no need to add the 'please,' as treacherous Noahs- unworthy of and betrayers of the human race- were not worth it, but Komui had always reminded her to always have good manners towards all.

Rhode only smirked, apparently pleased that she had managed to convey her point, and vanished, in a dramatic little poof.

"Rero?" The umbrella seemed quite as astonished as Rinali was in seeing its mistress suddenly disappear, and the exorcist reached out and tossed it into the lake- common sense informed her long ago that there was no point in allowing the Noah to have any more weapons in this world of her own creation than what she already had.

"Let's play a lil' game, shall we?" Rinali spun around at hearing Rhode's voice from behind her, but saw only empty air.

The Noah materialized with a little twirl in front of her, and Rinali's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the smaller girl's ferocious and terrifyingly fanged grin. There was no pleasantness in the smile, but only malice and sadism, and seeing it frightened her to no end.

"A game?" The exorcist voiced, giving her tone a little uncharacteristic edge of hostility. "I would think that this is no time for fun and toys."

"Uh-huh. A game!" Rhode said brightly. "If you lose, you have to be my dress-up doll and do all my homework for me- I've heard that you're smart… for an exorcist, that is."

Rinali did not bristle at the innocently-made insult, since her long-time acquaintance with the human ice lump that was Kanda was more than enough to break all habits of being easily provoked, but she did activate her Dark Boots in foresight if Rhode had only meant it all to be a ruse. After all, Rhode had not mentioned any terms of the game, nor what would come to pass if it transpired that she won.

"Your speed against mine," Rhode explained on in the same lilting, viciously sweet voice. "Your dark boots against me and my world."

Knowing Rhode, there existed most definitely some sort of rig or trick that would ultimately fix the 'game,' because Rinali knew that the Noah was very much aware that she was the fastest among the exorcists, and that none could possibly outmatch her when it came to speed. Even without her dark boots, she could easily outrun any other person.

"You know that there's a catch, don't you." Rhode amended, seeing her skeptical look.

"Aa. There always is, isn't there."

"Yep! It's my world you're against, and it moves according to my will, so you'll have a hard time."

Rinali blinked owlishly at the bluntness and the way Rhode so easily put it, and looked around at the ruins, the black water, and the loneliness all around, that threatened to strangle the life out of her with its overwhelming presence of death.

"…A race, you mean?"

Rhode looked around, and apparently saw the same fallibility of logic in having a race of all things in a place where there was no fixed distance nor endpoint. "Uhn…" She looked around uncertainly, and then snapped her fingers.

The clouds above, murky and with the same uncertain consistency of inky water, parted for her, slowly revealing a white crescent moon that still shone black on the water and gleamed untouchable and immaculate with its cool unearthliness, over the tips of the poor thin trees that seemed to be reaching its dead and twisted branches up to it to beg its healing light.

But the moonbeams were cold and devoid of all feeling.

"So there. We race to the moon."

"Isn't that impossible?" Rinali maintained with a frown. The most rudimentary basics of science involved general knowledge of astronomy, and the moon was most certainly an impossible distance away from the earth's surface, and thusly it was beyond even a marathon.

"Not for _you_. Those Dark Boots remove any human limit on your body, doesn't it? You can go at the speed of sound, and fly where others can't. Of course-you still can't beat _me_."

As supernaturally strong as the Dark Boots were, they would not be able to remove the all too human limits upon any part of her body excluding her feet.

"And if I win?"

"Mmm…you don't hafta be my doll, and you only hafta do my English homework- a two-page essay on love as presented in literature. Based off Pride and Prejudice and Dracula. That's so BORING!" Rhode chortled.

Like that was very encouraging, but Rinali had never been one for pretty words.

But in the end, none of it really mattered, because she lost.

The moon was a perfect crescent, sickeningly sharp on the edges and curved like Rhode's smile; and as it was, gravity seemed lessened in the dream world, and so it was even more easier for her to take off from the ruins to the sky where she belonged

Far up, high up from the earthly bodies that most humans were confined to.

Her feet were weightless and winged, but since it was night she needed not worry that she suffer the same fate as foolish and unwitting Icarus who flew where living beings could not possibly transgress. If people were meant to go so high, everyone would be bestowed with the gift of flight- but not everyone had wings.

But it wasn't as if the fall wasn't beautiful as well.

Weightless, feather-light, tender a sensation; of nothing but drafts of wind holding one up from descending so quickly, and the knowledge that the air was a homogeneous connected entity in its entirety, all the particles merged together to touch each other. To touch and taste the air, and know that everyone was breathing it in as well, brought a sense of solidarity.

But still for all its beauty its intent was deadly and ugly- to experience that, to leap out the window was to commit suicide.

But Rinali would never forget the way the white moon in all its pureness and corruption always just hovered out of her grasp, as it was always unceremoniously yanked out from her fingers just when the digits of her hand brushed the cool light…She would never forget the way the beautiful roundness just seemed to disappear as soon as she thought she had closed her fingers around it, because she had always been familiar with that feeling.

It was loss, and then, more deeply, regret, that was pierced through her heart every time it slipped out of her clutches.

Slippery and silvery and elusive, the moon was, like sand and time trickling fast and surely in a hourglass through the slender glass tube connecting the bulbs; Like the roaring water crashing through the rocks on the thickest and frothiest parts of the Yangtze river, never stopping in all its timeworn path; Like the lives of so many, slithering away in the dark of the night when there was no exorcist around to combat the present danger that was the Millennium Earl coming to claim a poor sad soul.

"Exorcist-chan…did you know that Allen Walker is a girl? She's been doing nothing but lie to you."

The moon was like her love for Allen Walker, creeping upon her before she knew it and then suddenly vanishing into thin air, ignoring her outstretched hands.

Now she could never claim it.

She hadn't believed it at first, thought that it was just some sort of pointless random diversion Rhode wanted to distract her with or at the very least slow her down. Nothing could compare with the speed of Dark Boots, which shattered all human limits as it brought its wearer flying through the sky at the speed of sound.

But for all her arrogance regarding the power of her innocence- it was completely and totally shattered. And thus she was willing to believe what even the enemy told her.

Allen Walker was a beautiful boy.

Both inside and out. The heart of gold that had made him so disgusting in Kanda Yuu's eyes had firmly established him as a paragon in her own, abet a disturbingly selfless one whom refused to let her fight alongside him even in times of danger.

She could see him in her dreams, but in her dreams he was always dead or dying, as was everything around her. Ruins, abandoned and devoid of any feeling or life, and somehow he had become the center of it all.

The same nightmare over and over again; it had always plagued her dreams ever since she entered the order. Even when her brother Komui had returned to her side, the nightmares still recurred with the same frequency with before, although she had almost entirely been certain that they would go away.

Once, after a particularly bad scare that had her sitting up in bed and the asthma that hadn't occurred in years suddenly choking the life out of her, she had requested that the Bookman perform acupuncture and gauge her chi levels and attempt to see if there was anything wrong with her body or anything of that sort.

He had found none, and attributed it to past memories triggered by recent occurrences, and he'd be willing to help by giving her stuff to make her sleep better if she needed them But then she saw him grinding up herbs and other odd assortments of natural resources, and she declined his offer- after all, the trauma of having to take traditional Chinese medicine in her childhood still lingered, and she hadn't particularly wanted to invoke those memories either.

But then Allen Walker appeared in her life, and the nightmares intensified by far- was it the strange power of the destroyer of time that made her so sick with fright about the impending future and disturbed her sleep with anxiety? But it was the fact that he was Allen Walker with the sweetly reassuring smile that made her so happy and frightened at the same time, scared to death about what this new beautiful feeling would bring her.

There was no reason to feel insecure and as if the world would drop out underneath her feet at any given moment, not if she had someone to fall with.

Komui returned to her as an educated scientist, resplendent and self-confident in all his newly-acquired knowledge although he was aware of the fact that technology was rapidly outdated. And that was enough for her, as long as his presence was near.

Not long afterwards, Kanda joined her circle of close people, trying to keep himself on the fringes but always being the elusive friend whom she could easily count on in his own silent way. It had been a startling bond, forming over of all things, hair ties, when they were at the Asian Branch of the order. But now that she reminisced on it, it wouldn't be so surprising since that was all they had in common- being Asian and having long hair.

Older by two years, but acting as if it had been an unbridgeable span of thirty, Kanda Yuu had been lacking a hair tie when she first met him, and his hair had just recently grown to the uncomfortable length when it trailed onto the back of the neck and into his eyes.

She was always happy to oblige, to be a help to others when she knew that it would be her way of giving thanks to the world for giving her back her beloved brother. And so she had given him a hair tie. And when it grew painful to watch him fumble around in the artless manner of little boys and tangle his hair even more, she pulled it back into a little short ponytail for him. And received no thanks until Tiedeur dragged him back to mutter a little and resentful 'thank-you' before his team left for America to meet up with another exorcist.

That exorcist happened to be the Bookman, and when they again rendezvoused at the Headquarters, she met Rabi.

Loud, garrulous, and incorrigible as most males under fifteen were wont to be, Rabi had been too full of life and spirit that he was immediately marked and labeled as a failure as a Bookman, since the occupation required something far more than the attention span of a gnat that he possessed.

The fact that he destroyed furniture and architecture on a daily basis because of his ability- or lack of thereof- to grow his hammer only furthered his reputation as a rascal and scamp. And then there was the time he and Kanda inebriated themselves silly, having the nerve to get plastered in a less-traversed hallway not to mention steal from Chief Jerry's jealously hoarded alcohol…

Such vivacity and energy was contagious among them all, influencing even the normally contemptuous Kanda into romping around like the kid he was supposed to be.

It had been the first time she had been confronted with such vitality.

She had never stopped to considered why she had always liked it so much the moment she set eyes on it, but when now she looked back on it, Rabi was the burning flame that she admired so much for its perseverance, and continued burning brightly, if a little unsteadily on, under any condition.

It was not just because of his bright-hued hair that he became the person to whom eyes were instantly drawn to, and as much as she'd be reluctant to say it out loud, most people agreed that Kanda had as much personality as a rock possessed, and thus Rabi appeared all the more and excessively bright in contrast.

Rabi was a wiry boy, whom had not started on musculature until long after his voice had broken (thirteen, if she remembered correctly) whose frame had always looked too rail-skinny to contain a vigor that was too much for the people around him, and more than a handful for the Panda-Jiji that was forever telling him to sit properly, write this write that, and don't you _dare _touch that or I'll box your ears so hard you won't be able to see straight for a month.

That was what he was: Life.

So animated, but yet sedentary enough to play a sweet and slow piece for her on the violin, an instrument that had taken him an impossibly short time to master.

_Ave Maria!  
Maiden mild!  
Oh, listen to a maiden's prayer  
For thou can't hear amid the wild  
This thou, this thou can't save amid, despair  
We slumbers safely tear the Mother  
Though we be man outcast relived  
Oh, Mainden, hear a maiden's sorrow  
Oh, Mother, hear a suppliant child!  
Ave Maria_

Life was history happening right before her eyes, and he was the Bookman whom was in the middle of it all- she remembered that that thought had run briefly by her then.

It proved to her for once and for all that he was genuine, that when he had it in him to devote all that vivacity, he could make miracles happen with his bare hands.

And he did, Ave Maria flowing like molten platinum from his bow and his fingertips on cool violin strings to resound sweetly in the air.

The music for her and her alone, meant for her despite the fact that the entire Order had heard its lovely airy strains dancing on wispy graceful notes in the hallways, through the walls and windows, to warm the hearts of all.

And despite all, she realized that Allen Walker was not one Rabi without a surname, and never could be.

"Come on, if your precious Order was so moral and holy, they wouldn't done that human experimentation stuff, right? They wouldn't have made unwilling kids be pressed into service." Rhode still seemed adamant on further beating the point into her head.

"You're lying." That was all Rinali was able to offer as a defense against a startlingly persuasive argument.

But the umbrella Rhode was pointing at her was glowing at the tip with a bright light, very much like Allen's arm when it was powering up to emit another one of his destructive cross graves.

Was it the end for her, finally?

She who had cheated death at least nine times- there were so many of those suicide attempts, and all of them foiled by the very people of the Order that she hated for ripping her childhood and her family and her home away from her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Then Rinali sees lightning. _

_And it is red._

And then, an explosion that scarcely missed her by a few feet, too close for comfort, that unceremoniously threw her out of the illusion and into a battlefield that was crumbling around her.

Akuma swooped into the midst of the smoke, if to close in on her to compensate for the fact that somehow, Rhode had missed.

At point-blank range, apparently.

But someone had deflected the killing blow, so easily that it was nearly an insult to her hard-won skills as an exorcist. But that level of aptitude and precision could only be attained by someone far higher and more experienced than she was.

Red hair, brighter than flame and the crimson of the blood-red sun rising over the Eastern seas.

And only a single eye, the left one- lazier and darker than she remembered, and not an emerald-green but the deepest and tawniest of golds, imbued with a metallic sheen that was currently fierce with the light of battle.

But still, a familiar face in battle, even if it was far removed from reality and even if it defied all common sense.

"…Rabi?" She whispered brokenly, her tongue stammering and strange even as she knew that it could not possibly be him. Rabi was far away in Vienna, in the St. Stephen's Cathedral that had always served as the exorcists' base in Austria.

It dully struck her that it was selfish of her to immediately replace her source of comfort with another immediately upon a change in circumstances; and that it was unfair for Rabi to suddenly have such a presence in her thought processes just because she couldn't bear to even think any more of Allen Walker for the time being.

This repression of an ugly truth was all the same, it being necessity that made her blindly turn her head for now, but sooner or later she knew that it would all eventually slowly gather up in quantity until she had to confront herself with what she had been trying so hard to deny.

But it was so easy and so convenient to just succumb to denial and turn her attention to less pressing and less hurtful matters- the redhead had always been an accessible manifestation hovering around her, even more so than Allen had been.

Allen with his willingness to help people had always felt somewhat distant, in a completely paradoxical way- he identified with everyone, and thus he was never hers.

And well Rinali was to be uncertain, as the one whom easily took down the bolt of lightning Rhode fired at her gave a little snort, and placed his wide-brimmed hat back upon his head and looked at her with a small frown.

"….Who are you calling Rabi?" A pause from the man, and an odd twitching of his facial features as if he swallowed a lemon. Then, "Rinali Li, I presume. In that case, it would be 'general' or 'sir' to you." The strange man said dismissively, eye hard and glinting wickedly as he stared at the akuma that had by now surrounded them. "Get on your feet, idiot girl, the floor is no place for an exorcist, low as we might fall."

_Idiot girl?_ _Low as we may fall? _

All insults, contempt for the Order, and lack of formalities, and as according to her brother, crude deliberate spontaneity - it could be no other than the most disreputable and unruly General Cross Marian whom was rumored to eat women's hearts for dessert.

Cross snorted again, as if he had just told a private joke that no-one but he understood, and Rinali realized with a sinking heart that no, her friends had not come for her and that they were far away, miles away in what was hopefully a safer place. However, the presence of the general that Allen so feared was reassuring, even if it was small comfort in such a situation.

Allen Walker-

-Nearly immediately she refused to continue any more down that train of thought, Rinali with alacrity forcing her mind to deviate elsewhere in an attempt not to _think _any more. Inasmuch as she tried, her traitorous, disobedient, treacherous brain forced images of white hair, a pentacle, and wide blue eyes into view, in horrible and constant repetition.

And worst of all, the happy smile she instantly found so _repelling_ now- a beautiful smile that was not for her, and of which she would not have discovered the treachery lurking behind if it not been for, of all people, a Noah. As much as she might deny it aloud, Rinali knew that it was not of Rhode's doing this time around.

Thankfully, the arrival of two other exorcists yanked her back to the present, the gold trimmings on their black uniforms effectively allowing her to recognize them as generals.

"Three generals…" She wondered desperately, eyes trained on their proudly emblazoned Rose crosses with a hint of envy.

Cross, Tiedeur, and Cloud Nine- they were the steel of the Order, the edge of the blade and part of the very skeleton that held the organization together with their collective strengths, and it was for their supposed invincibility that she envied them, longing for their power and might to not fall prey to her own inner akuma that was her uncontrollable emotions.

It was an odd occurrence, to gather so many generals in any single given place that wasn't an arranged reconnaissance point in a raid upon some particularly Noah-or-akuma-infested region; The last such large gathering had been in Munich or wherever Rabi and Bookman had been sent a short while ago, and even then it never boasted the attendance of the normally truant and work-shirking Cross.

Winters hadn't come, and she had always been to some extent scared of his face anyway, and there was no reason why Cloud Nine should have been called back especially since she still seemed in mourning and her monkey seemed half-asleep upon her shoulder….

Her thoughts were rambling on and on as the others exorcists fought, and this time she ignored the several explosions that came precariously near of decapitating her limbs and blasting off her head, in favor of keeping herself from straying more and more towards the precipice that was her shattered heart.

"…It can't be…it can't be…it can't be…it just can't…."

Like a rewinding clock, like a broken doll, Rinali repeated the words over and over, clinging to it as if were able to pull herself back in time, when Rhode had left the truth unsaid and she hadn't realized just whom had been surreptitiously lifting bandages from the infirmary and that she had never fallen in love with someone who never was in the first place.

"It isn't just the tagoichi- there's more dangerous experiments that maybe even your dear brother has worked on himself, event though he's probably still a newbie chief." Rhode told her sweetly, ignoring the fact that all three generals were thrashing her bodyguard akuma. "The so-called 'paradise' you guys wanted to make- ever heard of it? You should know, sorta like what happened in China and all with your opium wars..."

The other girl rambled on and on and on, Rinali ignored her enemy.

Had she been lied to by everyone?

It would only be fair to give Allen the benefit of doubt, seeing how it had been Rhode whom had told her all, but Rinali was nearly certain in her suspicion that it was the truth. Paranoia wouldn't have allowed it anyway, and it twisted and turned everything in favor of whatever Rhode had said, and now that she thought upon it, everything made all the more sense to her frazzled logic.

As much as she could possibly tell herself that it was only the momentary emotion brought on by shock and in a way, horror, she knew that even if it weren't true she would never be able to look at him with the same eyes again.

Yes. Him- she could not refer to her as a female until she had confirmed it personally, and by the looks of it she would only have to suffer some more doubt on her own part until she could see him once more.

"Maker of Eden….ART!!!!" Rinali didn't bat an eye at Tiedeur's own special brand of innocence, the art that was spawned from his own power and rose into the by now sooty air to effortlessly conquer the akuma.

"You'll need to get away from here- it's not safe."

A quiet husky voice of reason, pulling her back from where she was turned inwards into her own turmoiling feelings- another woman's voice, and distinct in its femininity and a little lower than most women were wont to have. There was no trace of anxiety or hurriedness in it, as if Cloud Nine was not concerned about the akuma bullets or was confident that she in all her grace and power could easily defeat them. She had a reason to fight and kill, and Rinali knew from the cool way she regarded the akuma that the deaths of her students were still fresh in her mind.

The first thing she noticed about Cloud Nine was the single eye that was not obscured by a soft fall of fairy-floss hair, and she wondered if it was a recurring trend for exorcists to have poor vision. Apparently Rabi and Cross also shared the same peculiar trait of only seeing through one eye, and the former she knew had to some extent became accustomed to compensating for his blind side, so she was fairly certain that the disadvantage would not be too great.

And surrounding Cloud Nine's eye was a web of raised scars that were like rope and sinew and constricted blood veins, but only on the smooth skin of her face. It gave what would have been otherwise a gentle visage an almost fierce, predatory look that lacked a hostile edge to it. In actuality, Rinali realized that it was not so much predatory as it was protective, protective of what she had left as her duty as an exorcist.

The older female exorcist had been through so much more than a silly, petty little crush that at the moment seemed as if it was going to unhinge and fall apart, bringing down with it her own faith in a friend who didn't seem like so much a friend anymore.

Next to the general, she was little more than a besotted little girl still trapped in the throes of her own regards for someone that had proven himself –no, not proven yet as she fought to remind herself- as untrustworthy and a liar.

The minute she thought that, Rinali's poor tender heart contradicted itself, insisting on remaining unbiased and defying all reason to wait until everything was resolved.

"I'm in such a mess." The Chinese exorcist whispered. "It can't be true, no, it can't!"

"…We can worry about it later- first we take care of the akuma, since that is what we need to do." Cloud Nine said, and if she was mystified, Rinali saw no signs of that from her.

"We women need to be strong, Rinali Li." The general continued, voice barely audible because the sounds of metal and gunfire nearly drowned it out. "Perhaps even stronger than the men, because we are an unblessed few and but a minority in the ranks. And even when we're down must we be strong for the sake of it- don't give in to whatever that distresses you so."

Perhaps the need for her to distract herself hadn't been very discerning in selecting whatever the something else was to occupy her thoughts, but Rabi and his heartrendingly sweet Ave Maria had displaced Allen Walker and his/her treachery.

Ave Maria- the strong unyielding mother of Christ, lovely and sorrowful and achingly strong for all her hardships.

Rinali knew that she could never be worthy like such a paragon, but it would not be so hard to hold her head up high for the time being. Invoking such a saint in a plea for more courage and resolve to survive would be the very least she could do to help herself.


	36. Variable

Disclaimer: I do not own D. gray man.

a/n: I'll be going away on vacation on Friday, so I've been packing and on working on stuff that's due in the summer program I'm in. I don't know if I'll be able to update until September, when I come back, as I found from last year that accessing in taiwan isn't something that I can easily do...somehow I could never log on, and it wasn't the crappy internet- or bad connection of thereof- that was doing it. The break from writing this will do some good I guess if I won't be able to update, since I'll have more time to write- I haven't been too happy with what my writing style morphed into. Especially the exposition. The talking bits too can use a bit more work.

Well, lots of dialogue at the end. Advancement of the plot and another potential mission for our darling exorcists, especially our little reverse trap! Allen-chan. it's from Cross Marian's pov mostly, and surprisingly I find him such a fun character to write- gimme some feedback please. If I ever write another fanfic after this one, it'd probably be centric on him.

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Ch36.

Variable

Yuu-chan was hiding something.

If anything, he was looking a most interesting combination of anxiety and impatience at said anxiety, his demeanor strangely unsettled and with little of the cool and arrogant indifference he usually possessed, as if the recent occurences had savagely wrung all the excess temper out of him that he had very little fire remaining to spare for anything else. He had been staying on Rabi's blind side for more than a minute now, and was shuffling his feet back and forth in a most disturbing way that was more wont of Crowley than him.

Yuu Kanda did not fidget.

He did not stoop so long as to be affected by anxiety like every other mortal being was; he was stiff and impermeable and about as friendly as a block of ice was.

Behind that ice-cold demeanor was an unease uncharacteristic of the Japanese exorcist, that was not so much nervousness as it was apprehension. It was alleviated only slightly when a chill wind rose to toy with his hair, and Kanda swatted helplessly in a completely amusing way at his ponytail, trying to tame it to a more manageable condition.

The jetty strands, a deep ebony that nearly absorbed all shine, twisted into the wind in a elegantly feral and uncontrollable way- it was of a very impractical length, but the normally pragmatic Kanda seemed to overlook it unlike everything else.

"Y'know, how about a lil' braid to-" Rabi started, almost playfully to lighten the mood until his friend favored him with a haughty glare that meant that he was hovering too close to the edge of the precipice that was his temper.

"-er, where's Allen?" Rabi had finished instead, as he was of the mind that it would be more prudent to avoid getting killed at the tender age of eighteen by his own ally, no less. He wanted to at the very least survive and live until he could finally get a girlfriend, of whom the acquisition of would probably be

"…He's sick, and will only be a hindrance to us." Kanda replied frostily. "But that's his own problem, not ours."

"Are you sure?' Rabi said, worriedly. "Is he all right?"

"Che. Don't bother checking up on him- it's just a little fever." For some strange reason, the Japanese exorcist did not throw the hissy fit that Rabi was full well expecting over this new development in occurrences.

"Of all times, why now?! Crow-chan isn't here yet."

"The two of us are enough to deal with this rabble." Kanda insisted. "We don't need back up."

"Oh." Somehow, Rabi was all at once relieved and anxious. While the British kid's and the misunderstood vampire's abilities would be priceless in such a situation, it had been a long time since the two of them were fighting together.

A few years ago, when there was an influx of young exorcists being initiated into the order like himself, Kanda, and Rinali, they had at first been assigned into units, little divisions of inexperienced greenhorns that would be deployed to less-dangerous areas to get more acquainted with their occupation as well as their own innocence- it was their superiors' firm belief that there was nothing like danger to breed caution and skill.

Of course, that belief was true, since having one's life on the line inspired motivation to learn- even the self taught poker fiend Allen had remarked before that even Cross subscribed to the same hard-love method of teaching- but it was at one's expense if the lesson was hard to learn.

It had became common for the two of them to be assigned together when Rabi himself was not learning the art of archiving history, but of late ever since Allen had entered the order, they were collaborating together less and less, even more so because the Bookman was increasing his workload as Bookman apprentice, and there was also the fact that Allen needed someone to (as he was sorely lacking in a master that was present) informs him of the day to day mechanisms that kept the Order running as it was.

To some extent, Rabi was fond of working with Kanda, because nobody else was so well acquainted with his blind spots like the Japanese exorcist was, and nobody else was so familiar with the nightmares of their first mission, because Kanda himself shared them as well.

Allen, Rinali, Crowley, and Miranda were very fine exorcists in their own right, but they could never replace Kanda as one of the best partners Rabi had ever had the pleasure of fighting alongside.

One had to take the bad with the good, and Kanda's foul, foul temper and occasional hissy fit was well worth taking along with his mugen illusion attacks because his kills were extremely fast and efficient and powerful.

"Rabi, you're spacing out."

Said foul-tempered partner sounded in an ill mood, and ready to draw and quarter him as an example and then string his carcass outside for the crowd to see. But Rabi knew that Kanda would for the moment spare him from any corporeal punishments, because he would no doubt be reminded that while that would have provided sufficient warning to an already bloodthirsty crowd, the reputation of the Order had already been tarnished enough and there was still time to repair the lack of faith on the civilians' part.

He cheerfully voiced that thought aloud, and was rewarded with a halfhearted swipe of Kanda's katana.

"Mou, Yuu-chan, you're mean as ever." Rabi said mockingly, as they proceeded to the highest point of the gigantic cathedral, where they would have a more advantageous, bird's eye vantage point.

"…shut up."

He was worried, and a worried Yuu-chan was rare and as reassuring as a stampeding herd of buffalo was.

"Damn. If only Rinali was here too." Rabi murmured wistfully under his breath, almost wishing that the pretty exorcist was around because of her communication skills- which were superior to Kanda's- and her gentle personality- again, a far cry from Kanda's- and most of all, her indiscreetly feminine presence that he found always so calming and soothing.

Although he still wouldn't trade his best friend in the world for anything in the world, not even for a girl who was- who was-

-A good friend. And that was all.

That was all…probably.

"_Rinali_?" Kanda stiffened, his entire frame going taut and tense, the muscles contracted as if he was undergoing a fit of paranoia.

"What's wrong? It's not like you, Yuu-chan."

"…None of your concern. I'm going ahead. And don't call me that." The cold exorcist abruptly sped on ahead in large steps, skipping two or three stair-steps at a single time. Rabi allowed him to go first, because there was not much distance until the top anyhow, and an irate Kanda was not someone even he was able to fend off for long.

Yep- Kanda was most definitely concealing some matter from him, and it was grave enough to rattle his normally stoic façade.

The South tower was the dominant feature of the Vienna skyline, easily recognizable by its soaring height and its bold tip of an eagle figurehead with the imperial emblem of the Hapsburg-Lorraine official coat of arms.

Four-hundred and forty-five feet of ancient black stone that had been whitened from soot, and also in unobstructed view was the symbol of not one of the generic Latin crosses that was mostly in use, but the apostolic cross of Lorraine.

A strange cross with two crossbars instead of one, symbolic of the ancient kings of yore that hailed from Hungary. To Rabi's keen eyes and knowledge of history, it seemed more like a Byzantine and Eastern Orthodox tradition that was quite out of place. After all, Roman Catholicism usually took precedence in Vienna, where an archbishop presided.

"The _Steffl_…." Kanda breathed, a hint of gruff and grudging respect in his eyes as they surmounted the top, his accent rough and using the German diminutive that the local people commonly used when referring to their precious tower.

"It's the first time they'd let us up here- not that they have much of a choice now." Rabi commented lightly, proceeding to look over the observation edge. "…Holy. Shit."

He hadn't realized that so many people hated them, and wanted them out.

A sea of light, of torches and the angered people bearing them. An incoming fierce tide of fury and malice, of sorrow and confusion, and of conviction: would they as exorcists drown? They were misunderstood, and but the intent of an exorcist's presence was to protect and fight. Civilians saw the flashes and explosions, and thus lashed out at what they did not know.

"…The last time we were here in Vienna, you broke one of their chapels in the middle of service since you grew your hammer too large. They'd be fools if they allowed _you_ of all people in." Kanda was muttering sullenly under his breath, strangely articulate for once, but not so angrily because Rabi was the only one he tolerated bringing up the past.

"Enough about me and my hammer, Yuu, and take a look at this." Rabi said grimly, motioning for him to take a peek. "Very good view, isn't it."

Kanda approached and looked, and his eyes widened slightly, before narrowing in a combative stare. "…_Very._"

Rabi wondered if it was Kanda's nonexistent sense of humor poking out at the wrong time, but the way he slipped mugen a few inches of blade out of the sheath implied tacitly that he was serious as always.

In older days when the cathedral also provided the role of a fortress for the city-dwelling folks, the North tower was a sentry point for guards to keep silent watch over the welfare of Vienna, because from there nearly anything could be spotted in a wide and far radius. Moreover, there was the presence of a bell to be rung if

"Y'know, it's a crime if we killed anyone without reason. …Although I do think self-defense is a very good reason!" The redhead added quickly, not wanting to bear the brunt of his friend's murderous stare.

"So what do you propose we do? _Vegetate_? We're here to do our jobs, not to babysit this crowd of idiots."

"Well…" Rabi ignored the scorn in Kanda's voice and scratched his head. "Yeah. Basically that, I guess. It's not as if we can do anything, and the only one of us who actually is people-friendly and has a gentle-looking face is down ill."

"_Che_." Only Kanda would believe that being people-friendly and gentle-looking were negative traits.

"Hmm…what to do, what to do…"

Rabi procured from his endless pockets a pair of the prototype spyglass he had snatched from Komui's equipment lab in his spare time; His sleight of hand skills were not so developed in a single area like Allen had done for card games, but he generally was adept in just about pocketing anything and everything.

(In fact, he aspired to one day snatch Allen's little green book- a diary, he believed- as well as Kanda's spare hairties and replace the latter with pink ones. Or those cute little hair accessories that girls loved so much. Or ribbons. Either way, he'd still face his friend's wrath.)

Learning how to maneuver his fingers on delicate violin strings had led to their being much more agile, and he had always been sneaking food from Jerry even before he and Kanda had swiped a full keg of beer.

Food from the kitchens, not bandages, as he had told Rinali after she had asked him –knowing his stickyfingered tactics- if he had taken two rolls of bandages from the infirmary and if he did just what was he going to do? Of course, the week before he had toilet-papered the outdoors training arena and thus suspicion would easily fall upon him.

"Hmm…" Rabi zoomed in with the spyglass, and to his surprise it was equipped with night vision, which was more than useful at midnight, not to mention heat-sensing colors. If he was correct, Bookman had informed him once that akuma did not produce the same body heat as humans did when they were in their true form, since they were all machine and steel and soul under the human skin. It was simple focusing, because of his lack of an eye, and he easily trained it down on the mob that was gathering below.

"This thing works pretty well! Unlike Komurin and the many other such robots that it spawned." Rabi muttered delightedly, adjusting the length for a better view. "Why can't Chief make more things like this than the weird stuff he churns out now? It'd be better for our blood pressures."

He winced as he watched the people below began hurling themselves against the thick oak doors of the cathedral in a futile attempt to break it down. "Uh-oh."

"But hey, I see they haven't acquired a battering ram yet." Rabi continued blithely.

"Can't you occupy your time in a better fashion than talking?" Kanda growled at him, unimpressed by the wonders of the spyglass.

"And what would you suggest me do?" Rabi returned deftly. "Better than being at each others' throats."

'…Fuck off.' The other exorcist gave a little displeased grunt that expressed that, just not verbally.

"Remember, we're can't take more lives than we save." Not that saving lives was really on the list of to-do articles for Bookmen.

Kanda snorted, unamused, and began haphazardly whetting mugen's blade on the watchtower's stone tiles in a bored fashion, although Rabi knew from his rigid pose that he was hyper-vigilant.

He felt very little, Rabi knew.

Could care less about people who were killed by akuma, and could care less about the fact that many deaths could be on their head because they as exorcists had made themselves unwanted because the akuma were targeting them.

All the more was the pity, and it was even more pathetic to the redhead because he knew that Kanda had cared once. Just no longer, and it had all begun here in Vienna some time ago, when the two of them were little and impressionable and eager to make their first kills.

"Hmph, we'll just wait for someone to get killed, and then we go in."

Sadly, they did not have to wait long, because a scream suddenly pierced through the air and nearly immediately was smothered by the rattling cacophony of machine-gun fire.

Battle was familiar to his ears, but the all at once enraged and terrified voices of those in the crowd rent Rabi's soul apart when he heard it screaming and roaring in his ears, penetrating his eardrums to shake his brain. It was the concert hall all over again, the symphony of death clutching at him and paralyzing his small preteen limbs, and the memory was still the more frightening because they were once more in Vienna, and nothing had changed other than the fact that they were eighteen now.

"Yuu…chan…" He gasped, hovering at the edge of the tower, one leg of the rail on the verge of leaping. "This time…we can't afford to…"

Kanda stood there poised on the rail, perfectly balanced, and for a split instance Rabi thought that he saw an irrational but strong spasm of fear crash across his visage, ruining his confident smirk. Then, with his usual grace, he dove downwards, and Rabi caught the familiar sight of blue light running alongside the naked and deadly blade of mugen, invocating the innocence.

It was reassuring, Kanda's presence was, because when he was around Rabi was so much more confidant in his own abilities- Kanda had always been some sort of gauge for measuring his own skills against because they sparred together once in a while.

And so he jumped.

It was like the quiet before the storm, this strange unease that wrapped around the stone structure of the buildings and licked and nudged at the tension that was sprang tight like a coiled python of steel and danger within all of them. At the break of dawn, when the night had just shattered into shards of colors of sultry European crimsons and damson wine hues, the sky resembled a coral sea with the horizon hovering uncertain and fragmentary under the clouds.

Thick and dark with unvoiced suspicion and malicious intent, the dam finally broke and the stormclouds ran forth to shower its rain and hail and stones upon the unwitting. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Cross pov:_

They had seen the smoke from far away.

_Rakuen?_

The entire universe he knew had hinged upon that single word.

Once more, the Order's demons of its own creation would rise from being buried alive.

How coincidental that it also seemed to be timed so perfectly with the Earl's hunt for the Destroyer of Time. It was a chance happenstance that was too correlated for his comfort, and Cross conceded that perhaps the Noahs had some sort of foul underlying malicious intention (they always did) to execute.

Enemies were not stupid- it would be a crime of stupidity to assume that just because exorcists were in the right that the Noahs would not have their own ingenious devices or ploys of some caliber to cripple the Organization and ultimately achieve their goal.

The world was sad in how it worked, and nothing was ever what it was supposed to be. 'Fairness,' however, was only an excuse for the weak to excuse their shortcomings.

What Cross had always found so sad was the fact that the Millennium Earl's scenario could be easily put into play, if it was not already, and one would never know any the better until the bitter end.

Humans were ultimately the loopholes and wild cards and black sheeps and variables and unpredictable, unsettled, undetermined factor in any domain. They created infinite possibilities for the Earl to influence.

Not only that, but as the general feared it was Mana Walker's ghost, again returning from the grave to haunt the people he had held so dear, and although it had been withheld and classified information in the trial, Cross Marian was fully aware that it had been because of _that _Mana had been tried and sentenced.

He had never wanted to hear that word again- but there it was, coming in its English form straight from that bratty Rhode Camelot's little foul mouth- which, in his very much justified opinion, should have been washed out with soap by the Millennium Earl.

The past never stayed dead for long, if Mana Walker could have ever been considered dead in the first place.

The scientist's disappearance the day before his scheduled execution, which had been a week after his trial, had stunned all. His whereabouts had been unconfirmed until Cross himself had happened upon a grieving Allen entirely by chance. It was not that he had actually stooped to investigation of something left buried and forgotten by the church- while it would have been the perfect scandal to bring to light to expose his employers, he enjoyed his idyllic life of women and wine very much, thank you.

The still smoldering embers in the ashes should be left alone, even if it was nearly too much. But now they were suddenly dug up and exposed to fresh air once more, and by the Noahs no less, and Cross suspected foul play and malicious intentions.

Otherwise, he would not expect the forces of the Earl to be involved with Rakuen- it was the tentative name for a massive and secret project of Mana Walker's that should undermine their very own existence.

However, it was only that much Mana Walker had made it clear to him, but it were the details that Cross lacked.

It was strange how people could possibly forget so easily the case regarding Chief Walker that had rocked the Order's structured little universe- but exorcists died and eventually were replaced by other younger and naïve ones who eventually were killed off as quickly and spontaneously as they had been initiated into the ranks.

Like _her_.

Cross cast the lone exorcist who had been left behind as rear guard for the rest of the Headquarters staff. While her physical injuries were for the most part just flesh wounds and not serious organ damage, Rhode's illusion world was the most destructive of all. It worked its annihilation from within, and caused the victim to self-destruct of his/her own accord.

The girl exorcist was around Allen's age, no older than sixteen at most, willowy and slender and lithe with youth. It seemed that exorcists got younger and younger with each decade, Cross thought, and there were too many of them under twenty-one, and there were many more female ones than there had formerly been. It was only of recent after he had trained Allen that he had began to keep an eye out- no pun intended- for any female accomodators.

Had the Order been of the same demographic when he had been a hormonal eighteen-year old drunk on his own youth and power, he might very well have had a different opinion if it.

He liked females very much- they were the perfect complimentary other half to a man's existence after all.

But as much as he liked women a lot, he didn't like them so much when they were that young; His infamous label of man-slut did not extend to pedophilia and he couldn't really stand little kids anyway. The latter was due to Allen's fault; the brat only had reinforced his steadfast belief that little children should all be shipped off to boarding school for those penguin-like nuns to take care of. Occupational school, actually, on second thought, would be better.

Quite frankly speaking, he was quite disturbed with the Lolita-fetish sort of concept, and it was not just because he had a young female apprentice who had gotten to the age where men would start actually paying attention- he certainly was glad that most didn't even know she was a girl, or he would have a lot more to worry about.

"…Sir, you're his master, aren't you?" Was the first thing the young exorcist had asked him after the battle was over.

"Eh?" He had stared at the young exorcist who looked vaguely familiar in a strange sort of way, and then he had realized that she was the little problematic and suicidal exorcist who had been coerced into the ranks of the Black priests years ago, and who also happened to be that whelp Komui's little sister.

Leah or Ria or Rina, or something like that…he couldn't be bothered to personally know everyone's names.

"_Allen's_, right…." Rinali's voice broke over the name, and Cross groaned mentally and began shuffling away as discreetly as possible as tears started spilling over her cheeks, no doubt brought forth by the thought of said idiot brat with whom Cross really needed to have words with soon. "Tell me, is he really a…"

Holy shit.

To his colleague's credit- Cross swore to buy her flowers if he remembered once he returned to civilization- Cloud Nine immediately swooped in, before Rinali could finish, like the mothering hawk she was, and began bandaging the young girl's wounds up and trying to soothe those not corporeal by an endless stream of calming talk.

One look at Komui's younger sister told him all- If anything, he was now thoroughly convinced that Allen was a complete and utterly hopeless nitwit.

Girls were problematic, more than women were. From the ages of eight to twelve they got into trouble. From thirteen on they got into boys and more trouble.

A teenage girl was the very worst, he reflected- a child-woman who was old enough for him to appreciate their feminine qualities, but little enough for him to still see them as a little kid because of their still rather juvenile tendencies and at times warped and volatile personalities.

But even still, they retained the qualities of a full women, with their renowned touchiness and sensitivity and hysterics. Of course, present company excluded. But Cross knew that Cloud Nine quite disapproved of his 'chauvinism.'

Cross glanced over at Cloud Nine and the head chief's younger sister, the latter of which had a devastated expression on her face, that had no been brought about by his own idiot disciple who had been stupid enough to allow another girl to _fall_ for her, and that was certainly saying something because as far as he was aware Allen never exhibited lesbian tendencies of any sort. He would have almost preferred insanely loud hysterics, disturbing as they were, to this sort of silent and repressed sort of coping with unpleasant emotions.

Tiedeur had nodded sagely and left the two female exorcists alone to wrap up any injuries Rinali had suffered during the duration of her own ordeal. He was always a sensitive sort of fellow, known as one of the nicest figures of authority in the order and one of the three-now two- generals that were halfways to fully sane. Although Cross had always figured that himself and Winters had always been foils for Tiedeur in demeanor and attitude.

As it was, Cross would very much prefer that he not think about his own idiot disciple if possible, and he soon turned his attention to the fact that the place that he hated with such a passion was finally thrown down and wrecked beyond repair. Although he was certain that the order would probably immediately be looking at real estate in a safer location to reconstruct another headquarters, it was certainly a time to savor.

He resisted the urge to dance happily on the ruins of the tower, as no doubt it would incite the little girl exorcist to start crying again, and they certainly could not have that occurring once more nor was he too inclined to have any more patience than he already had spent being trapped in a claustrophobic little carriage with two other generals.

"Poor girl." Tiedeur said sympathetically, handing Cross his bottle of wine preemptively in an ironic and poor attempt to keep his giddiness at an acceptable level and keep him occupied and unlikely to wander off back to New York. "I'm going to contact headquarters - from the looks of it and what Miss Li told us, they had already evacuated with Hevlaska and the innocence, and no doubt there already are plans to disperse among ourselves to safer locations…we'll need to confirm whether or not a reconnaissance would be necessary somewhere."

Thank God Tiedeur seemed to be clueless, and he probably thought that she was crying because of the fallen headquarters.

"You do that, then." Cross grumbled with a grimace, popping the cork with his teeth and taking the entire bottle in favor of transferring it to a glass for more gentile a style of drinking. "But you do realize that those _bums_ from higher up would be more concerned for their own safety other than getting out scattered ranks stabilized, right?"

"Which is why I will contact Komui instead."

"Infernal sis-con would love to know that his darling imouto is safe. That little upstart Chinese scientist has more brains than all of them put together, that's for sure. And he hasn't even been chief too long, heh."

"Ever since _that_ incident regarding-"

"You mutter the name 'Walker' and you'll make her cry again." Cross muttered darkly under his breath, stealing a glance towards the two women. Then, in normal tones, "No idea what's going on, but I want to get everything over with as soon as possible and go home!"

"Don't we all, but do notice that none of us are complaining about it." There was no malice nor rebuke in Tiedeur's voice, but merely a little hint of teasing.  
"Hmph."

The elder general held his black golem in the middle of his palm, nudging it gently with his knuckles. "Unfortunately, my golem is of an older model and thus is slower to connect."

"…I left Timcanpi with Allen, unfortunately." Cross cursed himself for not having the foresight to snatch along a spare golem or two during his last excursion to the Order, seeing as Timcanpi had been his own. Overall he still wondered at his decision to entrust such a valuable golem to his student, whom was not a very careful person. It had taken him nearly an entire year to complete the design and to solder all the parts together to create Timcanpi.

Seven melted tips and much contemplating and parts attached the wrong way had made Timcanpi his most expensive acquisition yet- he operated on the basis of trial-and-error to create it, after all, and self-sentience was Timcanpi's most defining and elusive quality that had caused him much work on.

But still, it would be a good learning experience for Timcanpi to be away from its master for some time, and it would hopefully be able to keep Allen's more reckless behavior in check with several discreet bites.

"…" Both men stared at Tiedeur's golem as it suddenly self-destructed in a shower of flying sparks and black metal.

"Good God." Tiedeur breathed indifferently at the sudden combustion of his communication device, eyes crinkling happily as Cross grimaced, and again cursed Timcanpi from not being around. "Well, you'll just have to come with us to meet him in person, yes?"

"No." Cross groused, although there was probably no other possible alternative except for- "…Nine?..."

"I offer my apologies. I too lack a golem." Cloud Nine offered with aplomb, looking up from dressing a gash on Rinali's temple. "I intended to retrieve one when I returned home."

But 'home' was gone. The ruins of the headquarters were still smoldering.

Cross believed in superstition only when it gave him an advantage to do so, and more often than not superstition was an excellent scapegoat and excuse. The fates were certainly conspiring against him today, as from he could see General Cloud Nine had a rare but somewhat welcome ghost of a smile upon her scarred visage.

"You do have to make your report on the recent occurrences in New York in person," Tiedeur prodded gently.

In person- two words that he had done his best to avoid.

A report was one too many words that Cross cared to speak, and the situation in America could not be easily summed up, as it had long since spread like wildfire to other nations as well. It seemed that London would be the next battlefield, if the matter of akuma amassing in Vienna was ever resolved.

Britain had always been suffering from corruption in the higher classes, something that had been easily taken advantage of by the Earl if Cross's resources were correct.

Moreover, landlords and taxes and poverty and inflation and hard working conditions in the sooty factories Britain was infamous for made for some very bad circumstances that the Earl could easily further to his own purposes, warping peoples' suffering for his own usage.

The most ordinary cities, if impoverished and populated by the desperate, would be the best breeding grounds for malcontent and sorrow, and in turn, Akuma.

"To be sure, the conditions in England isn't good and that's rich coming from those _Americans_." He murmured discreetly to Tiedeur. "When I was in New York, there was talk of a little gambling circle that is based in London or Liverpool- the money that is raked in funds some factories that ship their goods to New York. Those factories buy out smaller ones in Britain, lay the workers off- a vicious cycle that starts every time the owners get capital, which isn't hard if you cheat in gambling and win the jackpot."

"Laying people off means less jobs and a harder winter." Nine cut in, reasoning quite correctly.

"The goddamn aristocracy have got their grubby little paws all over it. The same few rich bastards are winning all the time and using that money to fund their factory-buying tendencies." Cross grumbled. Said rich bastards also had very pretty trophy wives.

"That could hardly be good for the slum folks who depend on the income from the factories they used to work for until they're laid off."

"By that do you mean an oligopoly?"

"No, just more along the lines of wealthy entrepreneur gamblers who have too much power." Cross deadpanned, mouth curling in disdain. "Apparently the bastards get together in a little clique, and try to hustle other rich bastards out of money, and then use their gains to buy other little factories out. I'm guessing that they're all upper class bastards who have capitalistic tendencies, and want to expand business empires- there has to be at least a few of them all working together-"

"- Rigging the games and later using their combined spoils- there's only a single jackpot, after all. The culprits then would be the owners of the factories that ship to New York, no?" Tiedeur remarked.

"Actually, that is not entirely true. It's not just one big factory buying little ones out. There's a lot of them, to provide a dummy front- perhaps it's less easier to track down the masterminds- hence the oligopocky…"

"…_Oligopoly_."

"Thank _you_." Cross said sarcastically. "And as we all know, capitalism kills people."

"-A bunch of cheaters working together to grab the most money, which then becomes capital for expanding economic empires that puts smaller operations out of buisness."

"Tyki Mick is behind this." Cross muttered. "Tyki Mick because he's the most presentable of all the Noahs."

"The man does look smooth--Hold still, Rinali, while I wrap this up- or perhaps even Skin Boric since he is American." Cloud Nine confirmed, "but one would think that people- or at least the aristocrats whom are swindled- would know that something furtive is going on."

"Not if there are enough collaborating gamblers to diffuse the suspicion evenly- although I do agree that there will be a few leaders to look out for." Tiedeur interjected.

"My-" Cross wondered how to put it delicately without arousing the wrath of the females present.

One-night stand? Whore? Mistress? Married young woman estranged from her overseas husband looking for a handsome lover?

"-_hostess_-" he decided airily.

Tiedeur smiled beatifically. Nine shook her head disapprovingly. Rinali continued staring into empty space, unable to separate reality from whatever thoughts of Allen Walker she was thinking of.

"-yes, hostess, had been recently made quite wealthy because her aristocrat husband, who is in England, has sent much money over to her. The hefty profits from his vast textiles company, you see."

"Your… _hostess's_ husband is connected to the gambling ring?"

"She as well used to be part of the ladies' society in the upper circles, and from what I can get the wives are also heavily involved in the ring. And there we have it, ladies and gentleman," Cross said, mockingly eloquent and spreading his gloved hands. "The emergence of such concentrated wealth in the hands of gambling and cheating tycoons will lead to the harm of the welfare of Britain's poorer citizens…"

"…But just because you have informed us of all this does _not_ mean that you will be able to pass on a meeting with Komui." Tiedeur pointed out calmly, being the sweet senile geezer that he was. "You're usually not so… verbose, so as to say, unless you want to be given the slip. Am I correct?"

"…" Cross should have known better.

Evil old man. They were not going to 'let him slide,' as Allen would have put it innocently.

Cross hadn't deigned to gather at wherever it was in Germany the previous month to partake in the massive raid on what had been a huge mass of akuma. Now they were once more collecting at Vienna, which could be fairly problematic considering that Vienna was the heart of the European cultural world with its artsy people and artsy museums and artsy architecture.

It looked if he had missed one exorcists' meet too many, and he certainly was not going to be able to worm his way out of this impending one.

"Who's in Vienna now?" Cross suddenly barked at Rinali, who visibly jumped, wide-eyed.

"…um…Rabi. Kanda. Crowley's on his way. And …Allen. I don't know if they know about Headquarters…"

"Feh." Cross spat grimly, ignoring her reluctance to pronounce his disciple's name. "Four relatively inexperienced idiots aren't going to get rid of all the akuma there."

Creativity budded and flourished full bloom all year around, especially that of the musical sort, and it spawned the most talented composers and musical artists of all time; The season of inspiration was for all eternity, permeated by parties and high fashion and If even the simple pleasures of the ear were cut off, no doubt the Earl would be able to strike a great blow to the entire world.

…and Vienna did have pretty women, anyhow. It would be worth a look, if for only that.

"Is it a raid on Vienna's existing akuma population?" He asked Rinali tersely, already devising several ways of beginning a conversation with Allen on the topic of Mana Walker- even though the young exorcist was relatively docile and cooperative, Cross had never once dared to broach the topic of the deceased man. To do so would to rip barely closed wounds right open once more, after they had so slowly healed.

"Brother says that it's not a raid," the girl murmured, head drooped and not meeting his eyes. "since the archbishop holds dominance over the city. The locals don't like outside interference from the exorcism branch of the church, since it's his domain. It'd be…" She paused to think. "…backup support, I guess. That's why we sent so many exorcists- to replace the ones that were killed off. Not sending in a new force."

"Eastern Europe is badly off, yes." Tiedeur agreed with a sigh. "This month has had the worst fatality count in years; the finders are falling left and right."

And the grievances went on and on in an never-ending list. Between that idiot Allen's problems and foiling the many versions of the Millennium Earl's scenario that had been set up, Cross didn't think that he'd be able to indulge his voyeuristic habits for a long time.

Gambling rings, Tyki Mick, Rakuen, the destroyer of time, Mana Walker, sobbing girls, the destruction of headquarters and/or relocation of, akuma mass orgy at Vienna.

Definitely a long winter.

The general grimaced as he downed the last drop in the bottle, sighed, and tossed it on the ruins.

He needed another drink.


	37. Bad Luck

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man.

A/N: Sorry for the wait. I really hate putting the fic on hiatus, but honestly vacation (typhoons...yeah) hasn't been too kind to me nor has school. Applying for college is annoying- I don't think I'll make the early decision deadline.

Well, another chapter- probably the weakest in the entireity of the fic so far, since Crowley isn't a character that I can get a grip on very well. I'll be posting outtakes and deleted bits that I originally wanted to include from the fic soon, since I've been revamping chapters yet to be posted to make sure the romance is consistent and not too fast, and stuff about general stupidity, Noahs and Cross that I won't get a chance to put in the fic because in the end I felt that the deleted scenes were too cracked up.

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Ch.37

Bad Luck

_Crowley's pov:_

Blue veins red veins beautiful and encroaching on the dead-snowy white of skin, how life threaded its way through those and of course the paths yet to be walked, everything written already deeply into his skin when the wounds cut and the blood flowed from the inside out, like some sort of long labyrinth road that wound its way into his body.

If the blood never flowed and his skin was never broken by fangs sinking deeper like poison into the recesses of his mind, would he still have felt the same? If he wasn't so lonely and he wouldn't have known sadness, would he still have become an exorcist?

Life never discerned what to cut off next, pull and stretch the string on the spindle before releasing it and spinning it off into the next tapestry to be made. Veins, capillaries and arteries and so many places one could take that sticky hot liquid stuff from the body and stain the world red.

He bit.

"…Eh?"

Startled at the stinging sensation, the exorcist stared in a half-bemused fashion at his hands, or rather what he had unconsciously been doing out of habit for quite some time ever since the train had stopped and didn't appear as if it was going to continue on to his destination any time soon.

By now, Crowley had nervously bitten his nails down to bloody little stubs that hurt, and probably would have proceeded to abuse them even further had it not been for the fact that his oversized molars made for some very awkward and unwieldy nail-biting, and if Rabi hadn't pointed out before to him that biting nails was very much unsanitary, and that a grown man of his stature and occupation absolutely should not be indulging in such compulsive childish habits.

God only knew what germs and other such consequences of filth and nature existed; the crowds awaiting their trains did little for the prevention of contagious states either, and he could practically feel the pathogens creeping over his skin.

It was catharsis in a self-mutilating form; the sight of the skin separating from the cuticle and the nail splitting from the rest in little slivers was oddly comforting and addicting.

It was with such thoughts freshly occupying his mind that the exorcist reluctantly paused in gnawing and stuck the tips of his fingers under his thighs, where he hoped the weight of his person would dissuade himself from taking them out once more to bite at.

Rivulets of red welled out from the bitten tips of his fingers where his teeth had grazed his skin- the pain was real, flowing in tiny little crimson trickles out of ivory-toned flesh, from the blood vessels buried beneath, to the surface of his skin.

"Ouch. That really hurts." Crowley muttered belatedly, and clawed slowly through his pockets for a handkerchief.

Unfortunately, he had none- it was only as of recent that he had begun doing his own laundry, and he always neglected to wash certain miscellaneous articles like handkerchiefs and socks.

He was late.

It was rude and disrespectful to his exorcist colleagues to arrive tardy on a mission, especially since a single exorcist would increase the manpower exponentially considering how few and needed exorcists generally were.

Moreover, his late grandfather- God bless his dear soul! - had bred a regard for etiquette in him ever since he was old enough to understand when he was being scolded, and being a well-bred Crowley all the way down to his one white stray curl, he was not one to cross his elders.

The exorcist picked at a loose and hanging cuticle, trying to instill in himself a sense of calm and decisiveness whereas uncertainty and nervousness gnawed away at his very punctual being.

He peeled away a loose part, and watched the blood seep out from where it separated from his nail with a miserable expression on his face, licking it away when it was just about to drip off onto the floor.

"Why…? Why me?" Crowley asked imploringly as if his misery was entirely a work of fate- which it was not, but still any moments of selfishness he would not really be inclined to indulge. He directed all this in the vague direction of the space above his head, looking heavenwards. "I miss you…."

Like the miserable proverbial drowned cat, Crowley, drenched in his misery, sat and nursed his fingers. Licked the blood away for lack of a hankie.

Eliade's blood was sweeter, still. His own was filthy with the taste of metal and the resentful angst that he had allowed to accumulate within his soul.

In vain, he could do little but try to survive the break between he and his past, and to fight away all the fears that presented themselves to him in broad daylight; the night was his friend, and he didn't fear it as he did the fierce glare of the sun outside.

As it was, the flesh around his nails was abused enough as it was, and he moved on to torturing the shock of white hair that habitually hung in his face, tugging and pulling on it until he was nearly certain that he'd pulled half an inch of it out of his scalp. His hands simply needed to be occupied with something productive-or as close to productive as possible- to do. Crowley sighed, and miserably stared through the rather filthy glass pane to the scenery outside.

"I wonder when we're going to get there…" He chattered anxiously away to himself and the artificial mental construction of Eliade that he believed hovered over his head. "…I have work to do. But oh well, life seems to get in the way all the time- that's what Rabi told me- but it seems to me that maybe the Earl might have had a hand in this; of course that fat bugger would, Chief Komui said that he always tried to thwart our plans and usually if we didn't realize it he would succeed so we had to keep an eye out…"

Without an audience or anyone to direct it at, his voice echoed forlornly in the private car. But his voice made it feel a little less empty, in a sad little way that was reminiscent of cold stone walls and velvet-draped windows, all of which had belonged in his castle.

"I wonder how Vienna is going to be…people have been very nice to me since I became an exorcist. I have a private car, although it's very lonely...Maybe it's because they don't want me around them."

Of course, the notion that it was entirely out of respect for his position as well as his own comfort completely slipped his mind, and such a luxury was thus not so welcome in his eyes.

That particular train of thought was of a particularly negative sort that Crowley knew that Eliade would be horrified if she knew that he was intent of following. Not dwelling on his imperfections made for an entirely different boost in ego, somewhat.

He had been looking at the same sights for a good three hours or so; the overcast grease that covered the window and the European landscape, of thick woodlands and grassy fields that were yellowing with the onset of an early autumn.

First, there had been the delay at the train station because mysteriously the changing rails had been malfunctioning- rust, they had said, but in a fit of paranoia the exorcist attributed it to the Earl's devices.

And then there was the fact that the train that he had planned to get on had been canceled out of lack of passengers that wanted to proceed to the destination.

And eventually some poor unfortunate person had thrown himself with the intention of committing suicide in front of another passing train, resulting in a bloody mess to Crowley's horror.

It took a good three hours or so to clean up the splatter of human body parts that had been distributed all over the station, or rather control the crowd of morbidly fascinated onlookers.

Afterwards came the legal paperwork, cops, and red tape and sectioning off of the scene.

And finally, when Crowley had actually made it onto a train and had settled into his private compartment with a sigh of relief, it had been discovered by the conductor that the brake wasn't working.

A screeching pit-stop at the next station to repair said malfunctioning brake chomped another vicious bite of two hours out of his schedule.

Late, late, late, and now the train wasn't moving and the conductor had just broadcast an announcement stating that they would be at least five hours off schedule or even more because of unforeseen circumstances regarding the condition of the station in Vienna- apparently the railroads near their destination had been rendered into smithereens.

The lattermost part was not what the conductor had exactly said, but it had been more than enough for Crowley to deduce and immediately fit in the worst- case scenario into the entire situation.

It was a base instinct, fear was, and to his very shame it was the one he felt was most prevalent in his reactions towards virtually anything that was unknown to him.

Irrational and unbacked by all reason except for the distinct pounding of one's startled heart, _fear_ was an intangible measure that only existed in mental terms, one's thoughts just as unstructured and existing only within the confinements of one's mind. Phenomenally, despite it all, many people were still scared of the same things- spiders, darkness, monsters that lurk under the bed, and industrial-sized drills.

Was it a distinctly human capability to insert all possibilities of something going awry in the worst ways possible, and then trying to avoid those possible outcomes?

But Crowley had always felt that the unknown was the most frightening of all. Danger and adventure were posed in the unmapped wilderness, the inky depths of the sea, and even in trying a new food that one may have an allergic reaction to. There was already enough excitement in his duty as an exorcist, and he didn't think that he would require any more anytime soon.

But this fear could be easily attributed to his years of near imprisonment in his castle with only an akuma as company, but his naiveté in trying the things he never experienced before could also be somewhat of a backlash to confinement. A certain poker game came to mind, or rather its horrible consequences for him.

"What should I do, Eliade?" He whimpered pathetically to the empty air above his head in his just as empty private car. "They're going to kill me for being late they're going to kill me they're going to kill me-"

On second thought, Rabi and Allen would not so much kill him as they would be disappointed with him. They were nice, friendly young men whom he wished had been around when he was a friendless child and also were the first to see something other than his vampiric tendencies; although in truth that had been their purpose to seek him out, but they made excellent friends as well.

Allen Walker with that bright, mega-watt smile of his that chased away the darkness, and Rabi with his loud, expressive personality that easily befriended the entire world.

If by fighting alongside them it would take some of the heavy burden off their young shoulders, Crowley would- because the world needed more people like that, to keep the children smiling and open. He was an adult, with an adult's responsibilities, and he would uphold it.

But on the other hand Kanda was to some extent frightening, especially to someone like Crowley who had limited experience with people. It was the frigid stare and indifferent attitude that was so off-putting.

Eliade would be disappointed as well if he forsook his duty as an exorcist- it was the responsibility he had taken on himself.

Failing others was something he could not tolerate- it would cut deeper than the blade of an enraged Kanda's Mugen, and indeed he wouldn't put it past the unsociable and disagreeable younger man to impale him on the spot once he arrived in Vienna.

Crowley stuck his head out the window, belatedly wincing as he heard something crush behind him, or rather against the seat of his leather pants. With horror, he discovered that he had accidentally sat upon the little fluttery black contraption that Komui had so kindly given him. A golem, they called it, and Komui had warned him not to get it destroyed.

The notion sent Crowley off into another tangent of panicked self-blame and it was only after a half an hour that he resumed his bearings and wiped his tears off his cheeks.

He had a job to do, and he was an exorcist. Exorcists wouldn't be defeated just because they accidentally broke their golem.

But on the other hand, a golem was an exorcist's sole method of communication with his/her supervising superior, who was in this case Komui; and since he was currently trapped in the middle of nowhere, there was no turning back to retrieve another one.

…What was he going to do?

Two minutes later, he had opened the window and awkwardly hopped out- just barely squeezing through the space with his bulky thick cloak and all. If the train was not going to bring him to Vienna, he would get there on his own, because he knew that he was needed there.

There were people in Vienna that needed him and wanted him to arrive to protect them; there were friends there awaiting his arrival so that they could defeat the enemies together; there was his guardian angel Eliade smiling down upon his new role in life as one who protects.

He had found a new purpose in life, a new reason for him to go on and live even when the world was sneering at his sharp teeth and other vampiric qualities, and he would not deny himself that reason because that had been Eliade's gift to him.

Ironic, it was- that he would thank the akuma because they were all he had, apart from his friends, for him to move on after Eliade died. But it would not be so surprising considering how an akuma had been, no, still was, his most precious person. She was the only one who could look upon him and smile, since just about everyone else would suffer a collective heart attack when they spotted his very…original features.

If all the world was a tapestry, the natural process of death would be the seam of life, where a single thread could prove to be the greatest factor to downfall in that a single pull could unweave everything that mattered... The hem, and edge of the rambling and chaotic nature of human existence.

Because when one ceased to exist- yes, _exist _considering that one had never really _lived_- all intentions and regrets were made the only things important then. Departure from the world one knew would not allow anything other than the most grave and pressing matters that were the closest to one's heart.

That was why he believed that Eliade had really and truly meant it when she said she loved him, in that one singular fleeting moment before she returned to ash.

If the train was not going to get him there in time, he would take himself there by his own legs.

As Crowley traveled the length of the train, on the uneven terrain next to the rails, he spared the ground a glance in favor of admiring the clearness of the blue sky. Ever looking, but never stopping in his walk towards his destination- Eliade would not want her death to dominate the rest of his life.

So he walked on and on.

A good half hour later, he barely threw himself out of the railway's path as the train rumbled right on to Vienna…_without him._

Oh dear, what a horrible day it was turning out it be.

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_The cool and icy, impersonal touch of sorrow and something else that ghosted like a foul mist in the chill damp European air was like a vise upon her throat, in one fell swoop suffocating all will out of her._

Please. Hold me. Love me. Make me feel wanted. But not if you don't mean it since I want something other than falsehoods for once- lies know my name well.

_Her vision went here and there, never one or the other, hovering between the sheer bliss of blankness and then comprehension of her solitary surroundings. Better to stay awake then to fall back into what seemed an eternity of a maze, of dank darkness and crescent moons and shattered ruins of a tower that was home, and yet didn't feel like it.  
The whole world was connected by the sky, but it was no normal sky that the sickly crescent moon hung in, and it was no real water that could be so black and dripping with malice. _

_When back in the throes of consciousness, the alternating ripples of fire and ice resonated so deeply and painfully that she thought it all was finally emerging from the marrow of her bones, and her dreams were swollen with God-knew-what fragmentary shards of information that she could barely grasp the meaning of- and it all was evil. _

She could only turn and run in the labyrinth of the thoughts that were compressed when she was awake and well, and now all of it had simply snowballed into a fresco of insanities that were indistinguishable from each other.

_The devil's music, a sole and lonely violin, sounded in her feverish mind, the full timbre rising to a shrieking crescendo. _

Why? Always alone even when among many, the only one unable to comprehend cruelty like it was although by all rights she should and must have been jaded to it already. Cruelty was what gave birth to her existence, and she couldn't think of any other reason for which she lived for, if not to eradicate all imprints and implantations of that word in the world.

Always alone when among many, since her smile did not mean much- merely a vague, cute little favor she bestowed on others because it made them happy, a dime a dozen for creature comfort when there was none, to soothe feelings back into order or a calmer state.

_But give her sleep now, if the Lord be so merciful, and spare her such a fatalistic strain of memory.  
Even still, she was unable to remain thoughtless for long, and dreamless sleep was a luxury that had always been denied to her. _

The past was as dark and the future would only bring much more to come, and she wasn't quite sure if she could withstand the new wave.

_Little butterfly kisses of death, devoid of any affection, the feather-light black wings alighting gently on her hot skin. One on her throat, resting just above the jugular artery. _

When her job was done, she thought that one day she would just walk into the sea when the tides lapped and licked away at the shore, and return with it as the water fell in a full swell back into the ocean where it had originated from, meeting her maker once more. She could save everyone else, but herself was an entirely different matter. She could walk on and on and the only final destination there would ever be would be to walk to heaven, wherever that was.

_Comatose, she completely disregarded the presence that had practically phased to kneel next to the couch where she had been laid on; He stared at her, golden irises lazy and hooded. _

Froth and water beading around her form and ripping the cloak and its insignia of occupation from her, leaving her as so many years ago she had been born, bare of all obligations. It had never been just an occupation for her, and she had made it clear from day one that it would be duty. How old would she be then, even?

_A single bat of the eye; a solitary twitch of the wing; the shallow and beating pulse that lay throbbing in a hollow way under ivory-pale skin. _

Eighteen? Twenty? Thirty-five? God forbid, fifty? Fifty was...half a century. Fifty was a age that not many people lived to. It seemed an eternity away, and even though twenty-four hours was never enough, time crawled thickly and slowly along.

_A silk-gloved hand, running fingers through her hair, soft upon soft in cruel tenderness and only the horrible intimacy between a hunter and his prey.  
"Wake up."_

_  
_Nobody could save her- she didn't want saving. It never did occur to her that perhaps her so-called heroics were only another form of cruelty.

_She couldn't._

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The false alarm had gotten their nerves fired up with a preemptive surge of adrenaline and their hearts pounding for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Kanda was of the opinion that while paranoia was justified, it would not be conducive to living a long and healthy life.

"…The church is private property. Trespassers-"

"-Will be drawn and quartered and hung up on the highest point of the damned ch-mmmph!" Livid and wanting to carry out his threat to the fullest, Kanda glared furiously as Rabi slammed his foul-tasting, gloved hand over his mouth.

"You do realize that we're not in the best of places, buddy." The redhead told him solemnly, removing his hand only after Kanda had grudgingly nodded in acquiesce- he was only verbal when he was in a foul temper and had something to say about it. "And don't do that, it makes us look bad."

Kanda looked away, careful not to turn his smoldering glance on the redhead for the time being, as he saw a telltale exhausted crinkle between eye patch and eye- a surefire way of telling when his partner had a headache.

The redhead winced and groggily shook his head. Long slender fingers that had been fleshed out and squared from handling a weapon tugged at a stray wisp of red hair that had spilled over the headband, and Rabi gave him an exhausted but relieved look when he backed down.

But Kanda's anger did not dissipate: spontaneous and always under a thin layer of patience, it had suddenly erupted from its slow burn to exact itself upon the people whom were unfortunate enough to cross him.

Rabi excluded, but Kanda would just as easily turn on him if pushed to a certain extent, and even he was not so eager to alienate allies despite his rather easily-incensed personality.

The torch-bearing civilians, all waxen and pale under their hoods, seemed to back off like a single whole when confronted with his rage. Uncertainly if reluctantly, leaping backwards to give him breadth, allowing Rabi to stop swinging his hammer. It was only an uncomfortably tight eight-foot radius of space, but it was eight-foot into what appeared to be a fifty-foot deep crowd.

It was some progress in the two hours they had been outside trying to appease a bunch of idiot dolts whom didn't realize the danger they were in and didn't seem as if they were about to anytime soon.

"Damn it, that Allen…" Rabi hissed desperately under his breath. "In such a crowd, we're sitting duck without him."

'Sitting duck' was a description that was an insult entirely to their own prowess, in Kanda's opinion.

The Destroyer of Time was overrated, prophesized to the extent to which his supposed powers were exaggerated, and even before said powers were made manifest- he had yet to see the Beansprout display anything other than a bravery that was too stupid and reckless for words.

Fate- hateful as it was- could not hinge on such an uncertainty, could not be dependent on the single variable of a single little idiot hero. Allen Walker was a walking bundle of bad luck, and having the future rest upon the outcome of a single card hand or a sole prophecy was the very worst.

Everyone was predestined to meet the same end of the road and die, whether it be in a day or a month or a year or a decade. That in itself was inevitable, but for him and his lotus, it would be an uncertain and intangibly unpredictable fate.

Could then, the Destroyer of Time be truly fated?

Or, more possibly, it could all just be an _artifact_ of an innate human desire to cling like the absolutely hopeless people they were to something, anything, no matter how improbable it was that any human savior could possible lift them out of the misery that they had cast themselves in.

It was their own fault for their own weakness, that of giving in to base and selfish humans wants of resurrecting a love one.

In other words, the hope that seemed so distant, from the darkness that seemed to swallow everything in its path.

Kanda snarled under his breath, displeased that Rabi was underestimating their competence and also because the last person he wanted to think about was the Beansprout. "We do _not_ need the brat." He insisted, darkly remembering how Allen had latched on to his hair and earnestly begged for him to stay.

To not have that annoying but somewhat reassuring presence by him to fling insulting words at rendered him uneasy.

"You exorcist scum are the trespassers!" An unidentified disembodied voice called from the crowd, too loud and much braver than what it would have been had he been directly facing the irate exorcist.

"Someone has a death wish." Kanda said calmly, running the tips of his fingers over Mugen's naked blade, a near homicidal light in his eyes.

According to Rabi, who was much more inclined to have an interest in psychology and whatnot, crowds and bodies of large numbers bred anonymity, and thusly more disagreeable and questionable behavior could be fostered. In a mob in which emotion and intentions and norms had already been carried in by the individuals that were participating, it could easily be contagious.

"Fuck." Kanda swore, not even bothering to censor the obscenity even though he represented the church, and those of the clergy usually were of the reputation that they were God-fearing, pious men that would rather cut their own tongues out than speak a foul word.

He was no clergy man if that rigid definition was to be abided by, and as stiff as his stance was against the whole of humanity and what he so hated about it, he was not one to abide by laws set by a vague, undefined, general consensus that had little right to impose its own morals and god-knew-what upon other singular individuals.

The world, corrupt as it was, would not permit it and only the fools with their heads too high in the clouds to be influenced by earthly phenomenon would be unscathed.

Rabi shot him a glower, shaking his shaggy red head slightly.

The murmur that had been effectively dampened down when Kanda had actively threatened the entire crowd once again increased in amplitude and vigor, since that one person who called out had placed a new idea in the limelight, one that the crowd would no doubt immediately fixate upon and adopt as its own.

Such a large body of people made for a very dangerous situation- they posed so much more a threat than a single person, who would be unable to influence so many others when on his own. Voices of dissent could easily multiply and amp up the scene to something that would be too much for he and Rabi to handle.

"Shall I eradicate the fool?" Kanda murmured to Rabi, referring to the person who had called out. "If I start killing them now, they'll eventually push him out…."

Which meant that there would be one less idiot to deal with and it would also frighten them into submission.

"Nah. It does go both ways- there's a tipping point. We can try to restrain them, but if we do it too much, it would be counterproductive to the warning and they'll ultimately turn on us even more since they'll be beyond reason." As if they weren't already; the clear and present danger of a threat to their hometown could only be connected to these strange cloaked people from the church.

"…Hmph." Kanda scowled as he dully watched the redhead attempt to negotiate with the angry people.

The redhead was in his element as a master of words and stories, every syllable flowing from his mouth to convey emotion and fact and reason in an unbroken fluid pace that Kanda himself could never muster up.

Rabi was connected to the world, to people by his voice and his ears, and this distinct link was called communication- a word Kanda had yet to learn the definition of.

Words that he knew: for your own _safety_, _danger_, _please_. Then there were others that he scoffed at, like _cooperation_ and _we can work this out peacefully_.

It was suffice to say that even he, who cared not for metaphysics and sociology like Rabi did, was able to see that negotiations and compromising would not provide any gains for either party. Kanda was of the opinion that people were very dumb and unworthy of study, but it was sometimes somewhat amusing to cynically observe their dynamics as an outsider- he had been a pariah for much of his life.

There was no leader in the collective, which meant for a disassociation of relations within the citizens, whom were only cohesive in their desperation and concern for their city, and it also led to a more-or-less equal diffusion of responsibility among all individuals, thusly eliminating any central authority whatsoever.

"I say we just _try_ to talk them out of it." Rabi's voice held the slightest hint of a desperate, impatient snarl. "So behave, Yuu-chan."

Him, behave? The word brought to mind unpleasant connotations of some chastised pet, which was something he would preferred not to be connected with. Kanda took the warning to heart, because the redhead very rarely became short with him- apparently being good-natured was a prerequisite to being a bookman, which was rather a tedious and difficult job that required copious amounts of interaction with humans and listening to their endless rambles about the dead past.

"And if you're so worried, keep in mind that Allen will be fine as long as we keep this place protected, alright?"

"Who cares about that cursed brat, anyway?" Automatically he snapped back, without thinking and without realizing that he sounded quite ridiculous in harboring such a hate for a colleague whom was after all on the same side as he, or at the very least in most cases.

"We all do, face it. He's a good kid." Rabi replied gamely. "Heck, even you do too, to a certain extent."

To a certain extent, yes, but more out of practicality and enlightened self-interest. Of course, the exorcist had long dismissed the fact that he found this new, vulnerable Allen with the soft eyes and prettily fever-flushed cheeks to be so helplessly _pathetic_ that it certainly warranted more attention_. 'Unconsciously asking for trouble, for a more unscrupulous person to ravage a sweet and tempting mouth while it was still that vulnerable, the little beauty caught in the throes of illness and unable to retaliate.' _

Kanda blinked, and directed to himself a small 'che' of aversion, disgusted by how appallingly inappropriate it was for a male to be so effeminate.

That thought in itself was enough to quell his rage down to a slow simmer, if only to wonder why said Beansprout couldn't be so quiet all the time.

However, if they were short a single person, the forces would be dealt a crippling blow that the order simply did not have the resources and time to cope with and rebound from; He pushed the fall of the black tower as far back in the recesses of his mind as possible, and being a mentally-disciplined person he easily succeeded…to only replace those thoughts with that of the current predicament, which was just as unpleasant.

Maths was not a strong point of his nor was it a field for which he particularly excelled at, but one person was a great part of a few. Exorcists were extremely small in number, and the number of akuma was infinite, with so many possibilities of creation wherever humans and therefore death were present.

"I don't care-"

"Shh." Rabi snapped, his single pupil roving around the vicinity anxiously. "Do you hear that?"

The music of hell, a silver-toned vibrato that soared above the voices of the masses to take a full note, lacked any warmth or fire; It caressed the ears in a poisonously velveteen grip, smooth and sweet as the red-wrapped lure of forbidden fruit; sinuous and slithering and wrapping around the soul like the snake which the devil embodied.

And then, the strange tingle in one's marrow of a presence more ancient and venerable and powerful than any mind could comprehend, sending shivers up and down the spine and crawling along the skin. Only innocence could produce such a telltale reaction in him, and unless he was completely mistaken- and while there was a large margin for that he chose to ignore it- no ordinary violin sounded like that.

"It's innocence- and it seems to be making them clam down."

A sudden ripple of silence, from the middle dissolving in subtle waves out to the very loudest fringes, a total calm that was entirely in contrast from the murderous, thoughtless rage that had been threatening a full-out brawl merely seconds ago.

It was as if the common people parted, like Moses in the Red sea, revealing empty air and a path that cut a swath right through, down the middle of the street downwards, continuing on ahead.

Ominous, yet alluring, the mystery lay ahead: The only way to go.


	38. Deleted Scenes

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man or the song Sexyback.

A/N: When this fic was still a plot bunny hovering around in my head, I actually did consider making it a comedy/parody- but angst turned out to be something I wrote better, most likely because Allen is such a twisted kid. There are parts of Real Smile that I deleted on purpose because I felt it would be overkill or irrevelant or just plain out of place. (Especially the very last one) Most of the deleted scenes center on the Noah family and the Earl, and I tried to polish them up drabble-style and assign each a word.

Warning: Crack. (For some of them, that is) Ear piercings, the Earl surfing, Rhode's failing grades, threesomes and all that good stuff. You have been warned. Also, lots of swearing.

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1.** White** _(Allen)_

Hair was most definitely a woman's treasure as well as her bane.

Women wanted their hair thick and lustrous and shining with nutrients on their head…and sparse everywhere else.

She was no exception, but she hated depilatories of any sort, and waxing/sugaring felt somewhat intrusive. Boys kept their legs hairy, but her inner self cringed at such a thought.

She was glad that the curse had somehow bleached all of hers a snow-white that was more or less invisible against the surface of pale skin. (Except for her eyelashes, which were thankfully still the dark of her former brunette tresses.) There was no need to shave her legs or any other parts, after all, if any unwanted bits were for the most part unseen.

But then, she got a tan.

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2. **Letter **(_The earl)_

Dear Big Fat White Marshmallow,

Fuck you.

You should lose some weight- at the very least try to go from _morbidly obese_ to merely _overweight_. It's going to kill you someday, and we know that best because we make problems out of nothing, we go to the doctor and we prescribe pills and stuff to make us live longer by eliminating something that was meant to happen after all. Yeah, that's us- making something out of nothing since there never was anything to begin with.

We humans are a species born to die- we and the chaotic thoughtless murdering entities that we make ourselves to replace our presence in the world. We live life with a death wish in mind, and everything we do seems to reflect that, stupid as it sounds. We take drugs, we kill each other, we get so drunk we can't see straight and walk right off a cliff.

You're fat and ugly and wicked, the omniscient deity that we all worship in some dark little corner of our hearts because deep down where the pain and tears well up we know that you're so right and we want to believe that.

We're so fucked up and yet you do help us out just a little by giving us that dangerous drug called hope and getting us addicted to it like an insomniac needs narcotics. We hate you, but we need you anyways for us to indulge our selfish pretentious needs.

Love,

Humanity

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3. **Homework **_(Rhode+ Noah Clan)_

The Jasdebi brothers were the absolute worst in English, and from her own experience were incompetent in just about every other subject as well- neither brother knew much about anything at all.

The Earl was on a trip to some tropical zone and hadn't bothered to take her along.

Skin Boric was unwilling to do menial labor that didn't require eating sweet stuff.

Tyki had flatly refused outright and left to see his human friends.

The English project on the reading curriculum covered in class was due the next day, but Rhode had no idea just what the teacher had made them read because she had for the most part dozed through it all, or had played hooky and sent Rero in a doppelganger form to class instead.

But then she reflected that even if the members of her family were around, she wouldn't know what to order them to do.

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4. **Failure **_(Rhode, Tyki)_

What was a girl to do when she got a _F_?

And in English no less. English was one of the core curriculums, which meant that unless she passed it she couldn't graduate from school. And she could get kicked out of the honors class as well.

Straight A's in all of all her other subjects, because Rero had become her doppelganger and had easily aced all her final exams, just as it had stood in for her during class time. Next to all those marks, an F looked awful.

But then again, English had been the only subject in which she was required to do a project.

Rero never was good with long-term stuff that should have been started two months ago and finished….oh, just about last week.

Rhode always requested her brother Tyki to stand in as guardian at parent-teacher conferences, because as much as she loved him, the Millennium Earl did cut a very un-fatherly figure with his oversized dental applications as well as his mannerisms.

Not that Tyki really did either, but at the very least he appeared human enough and was suave enough to charm all her teachers with his dulcet tones into passing her for the term. But Tyki_ had_ refused to write her English project for her and as a result she failed the course, so he had to take some responsibility.

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5. **Disappointment **_(Rhode, Tyki)_

As he talked to her female teacher, who had by now melted into a puddle of Tyki-worshiping-goo, Rhode wondered if Tyki-pon would take her out for ice-cream afterwards. She was hungry, and the PTC session was too long. But then she decided against it.

Because her brother always had a strange look on his face after the meetings with her teachers, who complained that (when she was awake) she was a 'disruptive influence in class' as well as a student who 'needs to learn self-control.' Somehow, Rhode got the feeling that despite all with them being Noahs and all, Tyki wanted her to do well at school.

But still, Killing Academics in her book. (Math was her best subject, and inequalities one of the few things she had actually learned.)

"Rhode, do you want ice cream?" Tyki asked softly after the meeting had been concluded with the agreement that she would pass if she completed the makeup assignment.

His eyes were dark and somewhat softer- she didn't like the way he walked either. Tyki never walked like a mere mortal, but prowled like the dark prince of the night that he was.

Rhode considered the well-meant offer for a moment. "Nah. Not today- stupid project I have to make up, remember?"

As they continued down the street, Rhode failed to see the little knowing smile on her brother's face.

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6. **Uniqueness **_(Rabi x Rinali)_

Hourglass shapes, pear shapes, top-heavy shapes, all-over curvy shapes, asymmetrical blobby shapes.

Flat chest, big chest, curvy belly, tight posterior, streamlined thighs, thick waists etc.

Women came in all shapes and sizes.

Rabi always looked, but he never touched.

Rinali was slender and sleek, and he liked that best.

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7. **Blood **_(Crowley x Eliade)_

Crowley's preys were his enemies, and it was their lives that he drank. However, he fed not out of hunger but due to a duty he had taken upon himself, a promise to a beautiful traitorous woman.

The life force could be felt throbbing in the pulse, fluttering against his sharp teeth as he greedily took it in his mouth. Washing down his throat, setting his stomach afire, and then taking he and his innocence to newer heights. To be politically correct, the akuma were already dead.

But by taking their blood, it was the only way he felt alive. Their blood was still red as any human's could be.

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8. **Morning **_(Cross, Allen)_

The redheaded general resisted the urge to roar back as the heart-stopping, high-pitched, little-girl sort of strangled scream that emitted from the bathroom this particular morning caused him to drop his pipe and morning glass of wine.

And then he realized that his young charge was, after all, twelve.

Cross sighed- he still would have thought that he'd have a little more time to prepare for this traumatic turn of events. It was not as if he hadn't foreseen it coming sooner or later.

Yeah. The little twerp was growing up- people tended to do that after a while.

She was old enough for adolescence to set on, which no doubt would horrify her to no end. Come to think of it, she was still floundering in the first few chapters of the textbook he shoved her on a whim and still hadn't reached the human reproductive section yet.

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9. **Daughter **_(Cross, Allen)_

He had never, ever wanted a kid.

But when Cross glanced out the window at Allen frolicking around with Timcanpi in the snow instead of scrubbing the floor like she was supposed to do, he decided that settling down somewhere and having children didn't seem so distasteful after all, not if they were obedient little servants as well.

Silly little girl. Why stay out in the cold when there was a nice fire inside?

Wives could be divorced. But daughters were _forever_.

Kids tied you down - they were high maintenance and too _stupid_ to listen to you, they cried so hard when you yelled at them, you needed to feed them, they effortlessly got themselves hurt- Cross winced as the six-foot snowman Allen had just made toppled right on her-

-And then they left you when they were grown.

Or when you outlived them. Either way, they didn't stick around.

Every disciple that he had was like a heartbeat come and gone, like the breath of wind in the scorching desert, and like a year in…infinity. He tried never to get attached to them, not when it was imminent that they leave him anyway in one way or another.

Thank God he wasn't her dad.

….But just five more minutes outside, and then he would roar at her to come in or no dinner.

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10.** Mission **_(Kanda, Allen, Tyki)_

"…Just why are we doing this?" Kanda sighs with all the indignity and self-justified impatience of a righteous martyr. "And with _you_ along no less."

The place they are in is cool and quiet and devoid of people after the lunch hour, and any noise that they make would probably cause the couple in the booth in front of them to throw caution to the winds and leave.

The pair had been trying to lose Kanda & co. for the past hour or so, and apparently they believe after a confounding series of twists, turns, and smoke bombs that they were finally safe from any prying eyes.

Tyki wipes his hands daintily on the edge of a paper napkin. He doesn't seem to be perturbed much even though he is squashed uncomfortably with two exorcists in a small diner booth.

On a mission.

Spying on a couple on a first date.

There are two benches, parallel to each other over the table, but for some reason they are all squashed onto a single one. The table creaks loudly if one forces uneven weight on it, as one of its legs is shorter than the other three- not that it had any business being shorter, but the diner was not exactly the most high-class of places to eat at.

"Shh. You're ruining it." The Noah says.

"Yes, please be quiet, Kanda, what if they hear you?"

Even_ Allen_ is agreeing with the Noah, as much as the two were rivals in cards and enemies on the battlefield. The brat's stage whisper is as loud as Kanda's normal speaking voice.

The parasitic type exorcist is hungry, and to prevent him from eating the lemons floating in the pitcher of water Kanda takes it and pulls it in front of him.

"…" Allen looks at him, and looks as wretched as possible. "Can I please have those?"

"_Bakayaro_. No." The Japanese exorcist sighs and resigns himself to a long hour of silent watching.

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11. **Napkin **_(Kanda, Allen, Tyki)_

It was not Allen's idea in the first place to spy on their friends on their first date, but he seemed fairly happy with being ordered by Komui to do so. And as it was, Kanda was along because of the unfortunate fact that he was the other half of the two-man exorcist units that Allen was in.

It had been two hours already. He wondered if he would be able to request a shuffling of units from Komui, so he wouldn't have to be paired with Allen of all people. Them being partners was like shutting two psychopathic criminals together.

It was not as if either of them were psychopathic- although he was sure that Allen was of the opinion that he was- but the comparison did work out very well.

As for Tyki- the exorcist shoots him a chilling death glare that the dark-skinned man ignores- he was just along for shits and giggles.

Rabi and Rinali seem to be very close to each other, and it is a miracle that Rabi isn't eating the food the duo had ordered. It lies untouched and quickly cooling, and Kanda notices that Allen eyes it wistfully before giving a little unsatisfied sigh as if he couldn't believe how such good fare is going to waste.

And just when the lovebirds' noses almost touch and Kanda believes that finally they'll be going home, Allen somehow accidentally tips the uneven table so that the contents of the pitcher of water is emptied over Kanda's lap.

With a pitiful squeak, the kid lunges for it as it falls, misses, and sprawls over Tyki, and the Noah rears up in surprise and in turn accidentally plants a sharp elbow in Kanda's face and knocks him out of their booth.

"…Uh. Oops?" Tyki offers half-apologetically and half-playfully, although Kanda thinks that he is hiding back a smirk. He eyes the flushing Rabi and Rinali with a chuckle. "Just kiss already, why don't you. This one here-" Points to Kanda. "-wants to go home already.

Kanda whaps him with a napkin, hard enough to shut him up temporarily.

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12. **Date **_(Kanda/Allen/Tyki, Rinali x Rabi)_

"…Whaa-haanh-" Rabi seems speechless and bug-eyed, perhaps most at Tyki's presence than anything else.

Kanda isn't surprised, especially since two exorcists and a Noah makes for a very awkward gathering indeed.

"_Allleeen!_ You _promised_!" Rinali protests in an overly shrill voice that hurts Kanda's ears, advancing on the cursed exorcist. "You _said_ you wouldn't tell anyone we were on a date!"

"I didn't!!!!" The Beansprout moans miserably, shrinking backwards. "Your brother dearest found out from _Bookman_, and then made us come along as _chaperones_!"

Actually, Komui had ordered them to draw and quarter Rabi, and string him up on the highest point of the headquarters Tower for all to see as an example. Allen had merely perceived it a different way.

"Excluding the Noah here, of course. He came entirely of his own volition." Kanda says coolly. No doubt it would be amusing if Tyki fell to the wrath of Rinali.

Rinali twitches, and he thinks that it is the first time he had ever seen her so mad.

"What are all of you doing here?" Rabi finally asks redundantly, as if his girlfriend hadn't asked him that a minute ago.

Allen opens his mouth to explain again, but Tyki cuts him off.

"A _date_." The Noah purrs, elegantly draping his arms around Allen and Kanda.

Allen meeps in a pitiful fashion. Kanda wonders just how many ways he would be able to take the infuriating older man apart with just his bare hands.

"No, we're _not_." The irate exorcist hisses, throwing him off. Allen scuttles away from the two of them pathetically, eyes huge and round with terror.

Rabi looks as if he would implode with the laughter he was trying very hard to hold in. "…A _threesome_, Yuu-chan? Didn't know that you were into that sort of stuff."

Kanda files away a mental note to tell Komui that Rabi had ruined Rinali for marriage.

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13. **Pout **_(Allen, Tyki)_

Allen's cheeks are puffed angrily out in consternation and embarrassment, very much like a little squirrel or chipmunk or some adorable little rodent in Tyki's opinion.

"…How did the earl find out?"

"Hmm…I do wonder…" He knows perfectly well what the young exorcist is asking, and he playfully pats her little white head as she coughs up blood. She's snarling and not very cute anymore at the moment, though.

His other hand is loose and lax in its grip around her heart; he fingers the veins and arteries that surround it in a fragile network that could be easily destroyed with a single move.

With a grin, he applies enough pressure for her to cry out in pain and her partner to grit his teeth and curse and yell her name- her given name, not the diminutive that he usually contemptuously uses.

"Get your hand off of me. Right now." She hisses, voice weak but carrying a hard edge. So harsh that it is uncharacteristic of a girl who sees fit to act polite with just about everyone.

And by the smoldering dark glare of her partner, the Japanese exorcist, Tyki knows that the poor fellow had been absolutely left in the dark about the entire affair.

"Shall I tell him for you?" He offers softly, spitefully.

"…Shut up." She says desperately, and Tyki shrugs.

"Whatever you like, but you can't hide it forever…he's going to think he's turning gay."

Allen spits out more blood and stares at him. "…Eh?"

God. They didn't make exorcists like they used to- this one was just that naïve and idiotic.

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14. **Kiss **_(Kanda x Allen)_

She has avoided him all day, even to the extent of skipping meals- something unheard of for a parasitic type- just so she wouldn't have to see him in the communal dining hall.

When he finally catches up and suddenly grabs her, his kiss is all fire and ice and burns with the hot desperation of one who is trying to prove something. It is too rough and hard and seeking against her mouth and she knows that he would leave bruises there.

'_I care'_- he can't say it in words because he isn't a man who is adept at verbal communication.

She wouldn't listen to him anyway, preferring to lick her injured pride somewhere else like a feline of some sort.

So he lets his actions speak for him.

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15. **Souvenir **_(the Earl, Rhode, Tyki-pon)_

Hmmm. This or that? ♥

What to do, what to do. ♥

Choice, choices, choices. ♥

There were so many of them, he didn't know what to buy! ♥

He wanted to find something to please his favorite little tomboy, or at the very least have some item on hand to bribe her with into completing her assignments on time; Dearest Tyki-pon ♥ had sent him a message informing him that she had failed her English course and she was actually putting some effort into completing the overdue project that had caused said grade.

A shell from the beach? But Rhode's tastes were expensive and more of the brand-name variety and even then she was so _picky_. it wasn't as if he was in, say, Europe. Where he could get those wonderful confections that she adored so. ♥

But as it was, the Millennium Earl was in the Bermudas, and there was only sunny sky and sand and coconut-shaped drinks around as far as the eye could see.

Being indecisive had never been a trait of his, and after a few more minutes of perusing the tourist-congested bazaar, he settled on a cheap child-sized surfboard printed with flowers and suns and fanciful cute little designs of that sort.

The next time he visited the tropics, he would be sure to bring all his family, and he would teach Rhode how to _really_ surf.

After they had cleared the beach of all of humanity, that was- tourists were eyesores, and they wanted to have as rickt a session as possible.♥

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16. **Hurt **_(Rabi, Kanda x Allen) _

They deliberately targeted each other with their words and actions, Rabi knew.

Even sweet-natured Allen was not above flinging petty insults when he was tired of making an effort to accommodate the other exorcist's jibes, and Kanda was the only one who aside from the akuma could arouse such vehemence in him.

Their interactions at first were amusing to watch because of their high-entertainment value, but the arguments and fights had only escalated the tension that had been simmering ever since Allen prevented Kanda from strangling a finder on the former's first day in the Order.

Someone was going to get badly hurt.

Hurt worse than a slashed arm or a broken nose.

Allen was easily bruised like a gardenia flower, although for such a person one would have expected him to harden himself against it.

But while Rabi had always imagined that someone would get hurt, but he hadn't ever expected it to be Kanda since the Japanese teen had always been much less emotional and indifferent to others' perceptions.

It wasn't supposed to be _Kanda_- the strongest and coldest of them all.

But as he watched his longtime friend reluctantly and in passive silence nurse a broken heart over sifters of rum, he wondered if the icy samurai had finally fallen to the blade of his own katana.

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17. **Letter 2**

Dear Exorcist,

Thank you. For all you've done. But haven't you considered the fact that perhaps what you're doing is more out of cruelty than the love and sentimental whatnot that your dark order cooks up?

You're fed honeyed words of paradise like some suicidal martyr, and you actually believe that you can save us. But you can't bring the dead back. You can't make us happy. You're sadly arrogant in thinking that you're saving the world when all in all it's just enlightened self-interest on your part. You feel good by acting pretentious and powerful since you're superhuman- even still you can't resurrect anyone.

But you're still human like us- you hurt and you cry when you're hurt like all people do. And don't you dare tell us that when your loved ones die you don't want them back again. If only for one moment to see them smile and laugh and reassure you that, no, they aren't dead and it's all a dream.

Can't you see that by then all we've got left is hope in the form of a fat blobby marshmallow in a ridiculous top hat? At the very least let us keep on believing his little hearts and sugary phrases and that there's nothing hidden beneath his hat that's going to leap out and eat us.

So don't interfere. Rest a little. Take care of your health if you really want to do great things in the future- you can go to school, be a doctor or something if you stop now. Yeah. We get the drift- you love your job. If you keep on telling yourself that, you'll believe it.

But we don't really need you, since we're all fucked as it is.

Love,

Humanity

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18. **Sweet **_(Rinali, Rabi, Allen)_

Red bean soup, goulash, anpan, mitarashi dango, every sort of dim sum available, rum-baked bananas, apple pie, strawberry parfait, custard creams, ice-cream puffs, cookie-dough ice cream, honey-glazed doughnuts, madeleines, Lady fingers, coffee cake, red velvet cheesecake, Christmas Log (even though it was autumn), zabaglione, fruit tarts, Ozark pudding, key lime pie, caramel molten lava cake, achumuruku.

Rinali was amazed at such a voracious appetite and collection of multinational food, as well as Chief Jerry's immense skill in culinary arts.

Had they pitted the destroyer of time against the Noahs' resident sweet tooth, she would have to put money on the former.

How Allen managed to stomach that much dessert and afterwards dinner as well was completely beyond her. Even then, the younger exorcist still remained so trim and slender and small even of so much consumption of fattening foods that she was slightly envious.

Rabi had told her that it was because of the innocence leeching off a parasitic-type exorcist's nutrition- it was much like being pregnant in that one needed to eat for two. In Allen's case, he seemed to eat for eight or nine, the quantity being staggering.

Seeing a baby as a parasite inside a pregnant woman made Rinali think twice about someday wanting children for herself.

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19. **Clean **_(Timcanpi, Allen, Cross)_

The first time she saw his house, she was horrified.

The floor needed sweeping- it looked as if a water buffalo had gone a rampage through the house with its hooves coated in thick river sludge.

The dishes were piled up, dirty and thick with rancid grease, in the sink.

The exorcist-general had his clothes tossed over just about any place that was accessible, and it all stank like sweat and blood and rotting flesh and something indistinct. (Years later she would find out that the something indistinct turned out to be sex, but at the time she had no idea.)

Litter was _anywhere_ but in the empty garbage bin.

Even Timcanpi gave off a horrifically unpleasant odor.

The little child gulped. Perhaps it was because Mana had always kept the house sterilely clean because of the chemical hazards that were his lab materials, that she became so accustomed to cleanliness.

Thusly, Master Cross's house was an utter eyesore as well as a hazard to health.

"…What are you _doing_?" Cross was looking at her as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head.

"Cleaning, sir." She replied meekly, shrinking backwards and replacing the clean broom where she had found it. It wasn't just because he was a dangerous man and that he towered over her, but also because he too stank to high heaven.

"…By all means continue on."

She made it a point to clean out the bathtub first.

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20. **Curiosity **(killed the cat) (_Rabi+Everyone)_

A healthy sense of wonder and curiosity as well as willingness to pry all made for some very good qualities in a Bookman, who was supposed to archive history- otherwise lack of interest would have made it a hateful occupation. Even if one didn't like it, cognitive dissonance was more than enough to force one into moving the truth a little more towards the lie.

He was knowledge- retentive, and an uncanny photographic and audio memory. Rabi had always wondered many things, that would have made for excellent notes in the text he was planning to complete someday:

How old Bookman was.

What was under Tyki Mick's tall hat.

How much Skin Boric weighed.

If the Earl could possibly end his sentences without a ♥.

Why Hevlaska looked like that.

Where Cross Marian was.

What Kanda's type of girl was.

What Allen wrote in that little diary of his.

And last but not least, what color underwear was Rinali wearing?

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21. **Meet **_(Allen)_

Men did not so much greet each other as they did confront each other, their greetings unenthusiastic and their shoulders squared and eyes narrowed in a particularly male sort of challenge. It was more of doing battle rather than saying hello, because machismo apparently prevented them from being civil to other male strangers.

But Allen always had a smile ready for anyone that was around.

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22. **Animals **_(River + Everyone)_

_Komui_ was a _koala_- relatively harmless, sleepy, and lethargic. Koalas were relatively indolent, another quality that was 100 true, although Komui didn't really hang off trees. Not inclined to do anything that was more exerting than breathing, though, as River had always been vexed by.

_Cross_, a _bull_ in perpetual heat. That explained why he was such a voyeuristic person as well as a scary one.

_Rinali_ was a lovely _swan_. For the apparent reasons like her innate grace and beauty. The first time River saw her fight, he had thought that she was an angel ascending to the heavens.

_Rabi_, a sly trickster of a _fox_. He had the red hair and a practiced impish grin already. River never forgot how Rabi would prank him when the kid was younger, from replacing his coffee roast with ground-up insects to short-sheeting his bed. (He had never found out how the kid had managed to get into his room.)

_Crowley_ could only be described as a _bat_- although that was fairly dull a choice considering the man's obvious vampire qualities like oversized molars and pale skin.

_Bookman_ was a _panda_. Duh. The insomniac circles- or was it makeup?- around his eyes stood witness to that.

_Kanda _was a fierce canine of some sort- more along the lines of a vengeful _wolf_, sleek and all powerful muscles rippling with fury and anger. Wolves were also fairly prideful and arrogant and territorially possessive, and that was Kanda when it came to his morning soba.

And _Allen_? He was…was…a stray _kitty_. The comparison didn't do him justice, though. But it was definitely the big seemingly-innocent eyes, and the way he licked his wounds alone.

Last but not least: _Miranda _was one of the more difficult people to assign an animal type, but he would have to go with a little _puppy_. There was always her sad gaze and that sort of fragility to her, and it wasn't just her mentality.

That didn't stop River from wanting to adopt her, though.

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23. **Jewelry **_(Panda-jiji, Rabi)_

He was fourteen, old enough to actually think for himself, when he got his first body piercing.

Strangely, Panda-_jiji_ hadn't yelled at him when he spotted him with holes in his earlobes and several pointless little circles of metal thrust through them. Lots of them.

His mentor had only lectured him on the impracticality of it all. And informed him quite calmly that no self-respecting Bookman would wear so many newfangled bits of jewelry like that- why won't he just stick to two regular hoops or something?

Rabi had shrugged it off as he always did, and let the Bookman caulk it all up to teenage rebellion.

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24. **Needle **_(Rabi, Kanda)_

Rinali had already had her ears pierced when she was three, and she had reassured Rabi that it really didn't hurt, and so he had wanted to get his own done with a much more relieved presence of mind.

What didn't hurt a lil' gal couldn't possibly hurt him, right?

However, his second thoughts were more of the 'holy crap' variety once he spotted the long, sharp, thick, red-hot-sterilized needle that was supposed to sink through his tender flesh, all the way past.

Due to his lack of emotion, Kanda had been the one who had been given the honor of sticking the needle through Rabi's ears- because Rabi was too squeamish to do it himself and Rinali was busy cleaning her brother's office and he wasn't about to ask Chief Jerry to do it for him.  
"…Like this?" Forcibly removing the ice that the redhead had been preemptively pressing against his ear to numb it, Kanda had brutally made the requested punctures where they were marked off with pen, not sparing any pain.

"Fuuuuuccck!"  
"Che." Kanda stabbed his ear again. And again. ("Fuuuuuccck!") "…The damned needle's not going through…aa, nevermind."

"….holy fucking Mother of Jesus….Damn it, Yuu, you fucking bastard…" Rabi had hissed, to his shame realizing that his eyes were tearing. "Rinali said it wouldn't hurt…"

Kanda gave his noncommittal hmph, apparently taking much sadistic pleasure on inflicting pain on his only friend. Rabi could see the laughter twitching inside of him.

"You're just weak, if you can't even measure up to a _girl_."

A minute later saw Rabi chasing his friend down with a needle, sans ice.

But the redhead figured that it was worth it all, just to see a rare genuine smile-smirk flit across Kanda's face.

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25.** Beautiful **_(Rabi x Rinali, Kanda)_

"Well…It isn't that bad I guess…" Rabi said appreciatively, once the entire ordeal was over and he could weakly chuckle at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

For the umpteenth time, he fingered the little golden hoops in his ears until Kanda told him in no uncertain terms that it would serve him right if it ripped and got infected.

"It's worth it…" Rabi said, eyeing the Japanese exorcist, who was sipping from a little jug of cooking sake they had taken from the kitchens. "D'ya wanna do yours, too?"

"No." Of course, Kanda Yuu would not deign to have something as common as sharp jewelry sticking out of his pristine ears.

Rabi chuckled ruefully when he spotted the steel of Mugen two inches out of the sheath, a sign not to push Kanda's patience any farther for fear of causing the rest of the blade to be pulled out.

Rinali walked by the library table where they were at, and sat down in the third chair that she always sat in. Looked wide-eyed at Rabi's ears and broke out into a wide smile.

"It looks beautiful, Rabi." She told him gaily.

"Yeah, you think so?" Rabi, all of a sudden puzzled by the spontaneous appearance of crimson heat that sets his face on fire, hid his confusion by stealing the sake bottle and taking a swig.

Kanda snorted. "Don't flatter him."

"No, really." Rinali insisted. Kanda shook his head in an aggravatingly superior manner.

Rabi blushed again.

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26. **Mistake**_(Allen, the Earl)_

"Raise. ♥"

"…I raise as well."

The game goes like this for several minutes. Trying to outdo the other in bets- their lives are already on the table, and neither of them have anything more to lose.

"…Call." Allen says, eyes flinty and glimmering grey like the evening star before the fell below the dawn horizon. The pupils are smiling coldly from under dark butterfly eyelashes. "Royal. Straight. Flush."

Each word she pronounces slowly and clearly in a deliberate hard tone, as if to strike her point home.

"You've grown up to be such a pretty girl. ♥" The Earl cackles happily.

Yes, he sees it all too well, would have never thought that she could come so far.

The destroyer of time is a wide-eyed, beautiful teenager that is momentarily all of sixteen years old- time has flown for her and with every second that passes she decays some more, while he would always bask in his immortality.

"You're making me _sick_."

No hint of politeness from an exorcist who supposedly has a heart of gold. He shouldn't and didn't expect any from her.

"I should have finished you back then when you were so little. ♥"

"You didn't. That's your mistake."

They lock eyes, and the Earl knows that she is right. He sees none of the frightened and hysterically distraught child in the young woman before him, and he hadn't counted on that.

"…Your head is mine, your honor." Almost mocking, her voice is, sweet and clear because of her age but lacking almost all of its naiveté; After all, life and death have tried to beat the innocence out of her, and nearly succeeded.

"You can try to take it- do your worst. ♥" Is all he'll tell her.

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27. **Myself **_(Kanda + Everyone)_

In Japanese, there were so many ways to refer to oneself.

The Earl uses '_wagahai_'- archaic, and easily displaying his pompous attitude towards the entire world, a word reserved exclusive for those of elite position in days of yore. 'We'- as if his person extended to that of his strange family, a little army in its own right but by no means insignificant.

Bak of the Asia Branch uses '_ore-sama,' _which is also quite arrogant, but such a person like he could easily use it without looked strangely at. _The Great Me?-_The attitude is lost in translation and does sound awful beyond words.

Rhode uses '_boku'_- perfect for a tomboy like her, a girl who wears a tiny minidress but possesses homicidal tendencies.

Allen and Crowley also use '_boku_'- somewhat on the juvenile side and boyish.

Rabi uses '_ore_'- somewhat rougher and more masculine and exerting self-confidence.

Girls don't say that, and as far as he was concerned not even Rhode did. Rinali and Miranda use '_watashi_.' Formal and fussy and humble as hell- Kanda's perfectly aware that there's a double standard for males and females and it just might as well be. Once in a while, Rinali would use '_atashi_' but only in the presence of people she knows very well.

There is no cultural equivalent in any other language to all these words as far as he was concerned, and the language he uses most, English, is so accursedly bland and flat in comparison.

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28. **Alcohol **(Allen, Cross)

It was a matter of convenience, but their master/student relationship transgressed far beyond symbiotic, to her dislike being more than _parasitic_ on his part. Somehow, it felt as if she was doing all the work while he taught her little.

Cross was a loud drunk- he had the disturbing tendency to be disruptive and sleep with random women.

It was after the third time that Allen had been summoned to some obscure bar in the middle of the night to pay for damage costs and to drag the inebriated general home that she decided to begin watering down the bottles of liquor that he usually carried on his person in case if God forbid he wasn't anywhere near a place that provided drinks.

Cross was nearly three times her weight, and the damage costs only added to the already ridiculous bills that he racked up- all in all, she was pretty much fed up.

Of course, it would have served him right if he died from liver damage due from copious amounts of alcohol- her love for fellow humans only extended _that_ far. But only after he had taught her, damn it, and so she had to take preventive measures.

As a precaution to her master someday realizing what she was up to, there was always a little point that she gauged on the paper label wrapped around the bottle; She poured the wine out until she reached that mark, and then she topped the rest off with regular water. He never noticed.

As a further safeguard, she only diluted his wine in the middle of the night and she could hear him through the thin walls, snoring fit to wake up the dead.

But one night, the snores stopped. And then he found out.

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29. **Illusion (**Allen)

Beauty was only an illusion.

It only lasted so long, and because of its fleeting and brief existence it was all the more treasured.

She liked the feel of rainy days, but all at once also disliked them because trying to combat the dewy-moist humidity with powder made for an absolutely disgusting mess on her face, and her makeup was only to some extent waterproof if she used cream bases instead.

Hot days were just as bad- if the makeup was prominent and loud, the bigger the scream, and thusly she was always forced to proceed with caution, taking a good half more hour out of the precious time she could have used to eat breakfast.

Bright, direct lights she learned to avoid like the plague, because a sharp-eyed person like Komui or Bookman or even Rabi would easily be able to perceive that her face was little more than a cakey plaster of shadows, paints, powders, and pencil.

Her face was fake- it wasn't beautiful. Nothing about her was beautiful, and if everyone who adored her so looked closely, she was only a twisted little girl who saved akuma because she could, and it had developed into an obsession to save even the unsaveble.

Her occupation as exorcist- no, no longer a job but life's duty- was not the glamourised thing that was so overtly displayed in such a flamboyantly dramatic fashion that it was nearly an insult to them.

It was not a beautiful act of self-sacrifice and heroism. It was downright ugly.

It was blood, tears, steel, and loss of life. Even though it-like everything, really- could be elevated to epic proportions, they were only doing their job like every other ordinary person.

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30. **Sayonara **_(Allen+Everyone, Kanda x Allen)_

She does not need to say goodbye.

She thinks that she'd just disappear off the earth's surface, hopes that they would forget about her because she is a curse upon all of them.

Cross would understand, that much she knows, as would Komui. They are wise men despite their shortcomings.

Once she had killed the Earl, there would be nothing left for her because there was no more akuma, and she lived for freeing them. Led them out of bondage and their mindless slaughtering rages.

But in a way, that awfully obese Earl _is_ the only thing keeping her alive- ironic how he tries to kill her at every opportunity….and vice versa.

Perhaps once her life's work was complete she would just walk into the sea with stones in her pocket when the tide rips in; or maybe walk on and on until her road came to an end; or best of all step right onto the staircase to heaven, right off a cliff.

But _he_ would keep her back from doing so- this short-tempered icy man who she had given her heart to was the only thing that would anchor her to this world and tie her to life. He held her life in his hands even though he knew it not, and for such a rough person he was so gentle.

God in heaven, it was too late for her to turn back. She was already so deeply in love.

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31. **Poker **_(Kanda, Allen, Miranda, Rinali)_

The insufferable little brat was a card shark, and that in itself was enough said.

Kanda was never playing ever again, not if the consequences always seemed to culminate in his long sleek black hair being dyed a sugary pink that screamed defeat.

Judging from Rinali's apologetic grin and Miranda's sheepish expression, it did not take a genius to figure out that he had been tag-teamed by all the other players.

"One of the girls now, are we?" He directed his frustration towards the only exorcist among the three that was possibly capable of devising such a scenario. Leave it to the utter nitwit to be calmly cleaning off the dye brush of the bright color.

"…So what if I am?" The little mastermind folded the stained towels primly. A very fanged smile was directed at him, the normally gentle eyes glinting grey like ice shards in the dead of winter. "I never lose, remember?"

Kanda had the sneaking suspicion that there was more to what Allen had said than what he cared to let on, and it was as if there was a hidden meaning to those words that only he appreciated.

"Another game? ♥" The Beansprout asked as sweetly as the Earl would offer his services to make akuma, his tone now completely saccharine and innocent.

Kanda threw the cards at him, the younger exorcist easily catching all of them before they fanned out and separated. Shuffled them back into the deck with an infuriating ease.

"Not interested." He snarled.

"If you win I'll wash the dye off." Allen said helpfully, taking out a bottle of color remover. "Better than going out like that, right? Thank God we're not playing strip poker."

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32. **Diary **_(Allen)_

Dear Diary,

Kanda says that I'm a pretentious, whining, wimpy girly idiot who needs to stop hampering myself with emotions and focus on my job.

I'm starting to think that he's right.

I just wish he wouldn't think that girl wimp.

- Allen Walker

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33. **Sexy **_(Tyki)_

Tyki gave himself the once-over in the mirror, not satisfied with his appearance until every fashionably wild curl was astray in an immaculate position. Placed his top hat on his head, where it perched fetchingly above his ebony brows in a flatteringly flirtatious way.

He winked at his reflection, please to no end that he had been blessed with wonderful genetics that allowed him to work wonders on anyone 'cause he looked just that damned good.

"I would totally date me..." A hint of smugness. "…Bringin' sexy back."

Skin Boric poked his massive lump of a head into the door, calling him to get the hell downstairs for breakfast since they can't begin until everyone including Tyki-pon was there. Tyki cringed at the way his fellow Noah brethren appeared to be still disheveled from a night of sleep, breath stinking of unbrushed teeth and sweets and chin unshaved.

And then, at the breakfast table, there was the Earl in all his glory of 85 kg. And then Jasdero and Debitt fighting with arsenals of scrambled eggs and chocolate milk.

A glob of oatmeal was thrown from nowhere and landed with a sickening squelch on the front of his immaculate dress coat, where it proceeded to slowly dribble down.

He sighed. _Sexy_-In the Noah household, they really needed it. And sanity, too.

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Would it be too much to ask for reviews? I've noticed that the number has declined drastically. Anyone care to tell me the reason?- I certainly hope it's not the writing quality going down. Although I have been updating less frequently. Sweatdrops


	39. Hypothtically Speaking, Sacrificial Lamb

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray man.

A/N: Thanks for so many reviews! I'm somewhat relieved to be reassured that writing quality isn't going down. I'll try to speed the plot up, sorry. This chapter somewhat explains the situation in the Black Order. It can be a bit confusing, so if anyone's lost just pm me to clear it up. I really put some thought into this, especially since it's a conversation between Cross and Rinali- yes, Cross is pretty much a plot catalyst since he's the perfect character to use to explain things.

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Ch. 38

Hypothetically speaking, Sacrificial Lamb

Cross pov:

Cross knew it, once a frazzled Johnny had passed the phone to Komui. The general was not a patient man, but he bore with the terrible static and occasional abrupt change in pitch and volume to coolly inform his boss on the current situation.

The scientist had gotten stronger than he was a year ago, a month, a week, yesterday; Stronger with the iron of responsibility that had been instilled in him long ago and only recently called forth on the day his sister didn't die and the day the order fell.

All jagged contours and ripped, ragged edges, but exhibiting a mournful gravity that he'd never heard before from someone who typically was a two-year-old at heart. He could hear sinew and brawn and tension and all the inner workings of muscle and strength that he never knew Komui possessed, as if it was all that the scientist could do to force back the welling dam of emotion.

His speech was curt and to-the-point, betraying not even surprise that the infamous slacker and womanizer general Cross was actually doing his job and not screwing the brains out of some random prostitute.

The dam broke once Cross relayed the current occurrences to the 'infernal sis-con' -as he so flatteringly described the scientist- on his own end, including the rescue of one Rinali Li, and he was forced to hold the phone receiver at a safe distance away from his ear so that he would be able to retain his hearing for the next twenty years or so.

Electrical wires of long-distance communication could not do justice to Komui's thick guttural emotion which was choked through what must have seemed like a thousand years of severance from reality, since there was power and strength in love that was unmatched by anything else.

Immeasurable in its fullness and nearly succeeding in making Cross wish that he himself had that sort of not-numerical and not-sentimental backing for his own life- he could count the wine bottles and gold coins and one-night-stands and people he actually gave a flying fuck about on one hand.

"…Mmm. I understand. Yes. No. No, your sister is fine. No, I didn't touch her, I hate little girls…they have no tits or ass to speak of…." Cross murmured lazily into the phone, glancing out the telephone booth at said young female exorcist, who was sitting on Tiedeur's suitcase on the platform.

Once his sister's safety was confirmed, Komui had reverted to his rather frightening overprotective tendencies, regardless of the fact Cross had pointed out to him that he did save her and didn't that warrant him a little break? "We're taking public transportation for the second half of the journey, by the way, and thusly we'll be able to meet up in Vienna-"

Without so much as a warning, the phone went dead with a click, signifying that his paid time had already came to an end. The general swore under his breath, reminding himself to never use the overpriced public equipment ever again if he was able to help it.

Cross unceremoniously slung the phone back upon its holster, and shouldered past the glass door leading outside, on the way withdrawing from his pocket and snapping the losing stick that he had drawn for the unsavory task of briefing Komui.

"He's going to Vienna, and we'll fill him in there." Was all the confirmation the other members of his impromptu traveling party needed, before they gathered up their pitifully few pieces of luggage. Left unsaid was how there was no single land line that was secured for the order members anymore, which meant that information had to be carefully exchanged lest an unwelcome outside faction were to get their grubby paws on it.

"Perhaps you'll be sent to England to infiltrate the gambling rings." Nine suggested softly in a low voice, running a hand through her hair to brush it away from her face; Her voice, a low and quiet European purr that was strangely silken for a hardened woman of her line of work, was not lost in the bustle of the train station. "It certainly sounds serious enough to warrant an investigation if the Earl or at the very least the Noahs are involved."

Cross gave a world-weary sigh and searched for his pipe, despite the fact that there was a sign prominently displayed declaring the station smoke-free. "Saa. The gambling rings, you say- I know someone who's a damn good cheater and will be a fairly…._reliable_ candidate for the job."

Subterfuge was one of Allen's specialties, anyhow, and a winsome demeanor and a cute face had made the kid an excellent accessory for picking up women with ("Awww! How cute! Is he your son?") in earlier days.

It just so happened that said brat had personally turned into a heartbreaker herself, no doubt unknowingly.

"…Your student?"

"Eh? Oh. Right." Cross gave Nine a quick look, but any expression was hooded by her darkened eyes, which were lowered to half-mast and staring at the ground. "Sorry," He ground out, unused to being concerned for anyone else's feelings.

"There is nothing to apologize for." His colleague answered, in an unreadable tone of voice. "The one who….is loved by God."

Allen is the akumas' Moses and the Noahs' Antichrist and their own messiah all rolled into one small body that will sooner or later break under the strain. God loves them all, but some are loved a little more than others.

"If you knew him you wouldn't think so." Cross only grumbled. "He damned well missed out when God was giving out brains." _Got in line for willpower though. Twice._ _And a pretty face never hurt anyone. _

"At the very least he is alive, and you should be glad for that. But why my girls and not your boy? Why must they die? In the end, we who are not saddled with a prophecy and the burden of the world are just pawns that are disposable and replaceable."

"But of course. We're pawns." Both generals turned in the direction where the soft and sad voice had cut in, its soft gentleness strangely cutting. Cross lifted an eyebrow, knowing full well that it was the first time in three hours that Rinali had said anything else to him.

"But when someone dies, someone will be crying for them. Someone will want an akuma- is that being replaceable? If so, that's pretty pitiful, which probably is true anyways." Rinali explained in a curiously deadened way, with none of the passionate idealistic simplicity that more often than not permeated the reasoning of the young and inexperienced and that should have been warranted in her reaction to such a subject.

For such a tender-hearted person to suddenly become so jaded in a short amount of time, it would be ridiculous to believe that it was not taking an extreme effort for her not to backlash at her newly-found cynicism.

Cross sighed, apparently not in the mood to listen to any more jabber about mortality and the cruelty that was life- you got on the beast and rode, and that was just about all he could say for it. There was no need to dramatize the human life which was already practically a drama in its own right.

Failure and angst especially needed no amount of glossing over-Blood sinking deep within and the bitter acidic tang of a bruised ego when one tangled in still tender and aching nerves that never healed over and not even time had been enough; poking and prodding and ripping at a pus-swollen wound so that it would bleed and heal cleanly if one actually got all the dead bacterial whatnot out.

It all sounded like a misery-fest that he would be loathe to sludge through.

Rinali gave an ill-concealed sigh, and Cross grimaced, not at all anticipating the talk that he needed to pull Allen aside for.

He could care less about the brat and the sticky situations it managed to easily get itself into, but tangled romantic relationships were- by his personal experience- a bother and as a relatively important exorcist who bore the burden of a prophecy, Allen had every responsibility not to be disrupted by any potential distractions.

All relationships had to nipped in the bud and prevented from furthering into long-lasting emotional bonds that could do no good, especially with that redheaded Bookman boy- Rabi, was it?- he heard the kid was particularly fond of associating with.

Nothing ever came of befriending a bookman, since a bookman had wavering loyalties depending upon circumstances, and if happenstance had it he could easily defect from one side to another, giving the prerequisites of his job.

A Bookman was no true ally, no matter how good their intentions were, and thus could never be trusted.

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_Rinali pov:_

When the train arrived and they boarded in silence, Rinali was startled as well as slightly displeased when General Cross instead of General Cloud Nine accompanied her to one of the two private cars they were to occupy.

As the train pulled out and the station was merely a vanishing point in the distance connected only to her by the lines and lines and lines of trees that she saw outside, Rinali fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat.

Her brother had warned her that he ate maidens' hearts for breakfast, and had very little respect towards women- the girl wondered if the same occurred for him towards Allen, who seemed somewhat traumatized by the general's training. However, that was assuming that Allen was…deceiving her, and as it was not confirmed yet Rinali was only left to her doubts.

Then, all of a sudden: "Don't get too attached."

"Eh? Sir?" Rinali drew her face back from the window, and looked at Cross questioningly where he sat across from her.

The elder exorcist snorted rudely, and stretched his legs across to rest on her bench in a crass fashion; Rinali was amazed to no end how such an improper man could have produced from his tutelage such a sweet-mannered person such as Allen.

"You heard what I said, girl." Cross told her patronizingly, single eye narrowed in a piercing gaze, under the wide brim of the hat he hadn't bothered to remove even for courtesy's sake. "I meant that you shouldn't get too damned attached."

"You mean…to Allen?" Rinali flushed, embarrassed. "Now that I know that he's a-"

She stopped, remembering how giving said exorcist the benefit of doubt would not work very well. But still, she wanted, no, needed, to allow Allen to confirm this in person and to give an explanation. There was a reason for everything, there always was.

Cross was looking at her oddly, an expression caught between a smile and a smirk. "Go on. What will you do? Other than beat her over the head with your dark boots for not telling you and causing you all the heartache, being the utter nitwit that she is, damn her. Don't look like that," The general said, catching sight of her startled expression. "I know women well. They look like that when they're in love- which I hope you're not in now. Not that I really mind, since lesbians have somewhat of a sexual appeal for straight men…"

He said it in a flat and cool enough voice to cause her to believe that no, he was not trying to hit on her and was simply baiting her. Rinali shook her head desperately, hoping to God that the man ceased his cruelty and left her alone to her thoughts, as she did not need him of all men to mock her when she was at such a low point in her life.

She had heard whispers among the few finders that had supported Cross before that the womanizing man had perfected verbal whipping to an art form, so polished and flawless was his skill in it.

_She. _

The word pounding into her brain infinite times until it was engraved into soft tissue in blood and finally the meaning struck home.

Rinali broke down.

Cross had flung the pronoun out between them so easily, with almost a horrible sort of ease that only one accustomed to it would possess; It was as if he was being deliberately merciless in presenting to her just one more piece of the puzzle that wouldn't fit, in proving to her and rubbing it right in her face that she had been wrong all along about a boy, a _friend_ that she thought that she could trust.

And even then, she wasn't so sure if Allen could be her friend anymore.

"But like I said, don't get too attached, even to your friends." Cross told her bluntly, speaking through the pipe in his mouth. "They die."

"I know." She choked out, ignoring steadfastly the lacey handkerchief- probably the spoils from one of many dates- he offered her.

"Allen especially." Cross amended coolly, folding the unused handkerchief in an elegant, practiced fashion and tucking it neatly back in his pocket, all the while staring her down the length of the stem of his pipe with no reservations. "The damned brat's only born to die."

"No offense meant, sir, but everyone is." She told him, stubbornly lifting her chin ever so slightly, eyebrows furrowed in displeasure.

"Or so says the girl who tried to cut her own wrists years ago. You're getting the hang of it. Your brother's still smarter than you though."

Rinali sniffed, and flinched at the crude allusion he made to her many failed suicide attempts, one of which was executed with a dull shaving razor left haphazardly in the dormitory bathrooms. However, giving the current situations she made no reply because he could easily pull rank over her and she had been reared to be a nice, polite girl.

"But Allen especially is meant to die, because she's the only one who can end this war that has existed since the beginning of time. Only her sword can match the earl's and at the moment it hasn't appeared yet, while the earl is…the earl. Trigger-happy as always. The poor little idiot stands no chance against him."

Rinali frowned at the vagueness of his cryptic answer, how he had told her everything truthful and yet nothing of it made any sense whatsoever because it was of a magnitude that she couldn't comprehend- someone close to her was going to die, and fate was out of her hands to control.

"But sir, the prophecy…the earl will be defeated and it says nothing about getting-"

"Not that it matters. You think the Earl gives a shit?" Cross Marian snapped derisively. "Idiot girl, think twice. It doesn't matter whether or not the destroyer of time prophecy is true or not, but what remains is the fact that the Earl believes that it is, which is why my idiot disciple is such a sought-after target of his….But do you doubt her? Do you think that the prophecy is true?"

He was playing with her, manipulating her answers the other way so she would see what she didn't want to, to see what was lying underneath layers and layers of screwed-up rhetoric. A sly glance, a furtive look, the frosty gleam of his one visible eye- his manner, casual and loose as he seemed, set her alertness skyrocketing to paranoid heights. She did not take very much offense, since she knew in his rough way he was trying to actually tell her something, but the way he continued to perpetually address her as 'idiot girl' was starting to fray her already rattled nerves.

Yes. No. A simple answer of two choices which she was unable to choose from.

Now, Rinali had reason to doubt Allen, although she could not truly find a single shred of ill will towards the younger exorcist- it was more of resigned exhaustion in dealing with herself that Rinali was not very eager to brazenly challenge the idea that yes, it was necessary to actually confront Allen and rip the truth from her.

What had always been so appealing about Allen was the concept of 'savior.' A lone martyr valiantly struggling against the impossible Styx river tides of fate to prevent that precious inner fire that was hope from being quenched, the destroyer of time who would save them all.

It had been too easy, so easy that she should have suspected something, how Allen was so charismatic and attention-attracting. It had been simply too simple a thing for her to fall hard.

But after seeing miracles made possible by a single bright smile that led everyone to victory, Rinali could feel no doubt that indeed, the prophecy was true.

"…No. He…She… the destroyer of time." Bookman had insisted on that; cited it as one of the reasons why Allen could not be dead after Tyki had attacked her.

"You're highly mistaken then. She, Destroyer of time? My ass. What time? The Earl's got a million years backing him. Allen cannot even hope to last ten minutes with Tyki, much less the Earl- is that the mark of a hero? Incompetence? Weakness?"

"Not incompetent or weak, it's just that-"

"It is nothing but a speculation of mine, that there could be someone higher up in the order plotting all of this." Cross interrupted frostily. "Nothing but a speculation and I do have enough faith in the brat, but not so much to entrust my life and the world to her."

"But there has to be-"

"Can't you be quiet for a while?" Cross complained. "I'm not finished yet."

He turned a glare upon her, and Rinali realized with a sinking feeling just why the normally polite Allen Walker was so obvious in expressing dislike and fear for such a person. He blew a few rings of smoke before he continued on in the same morbid strain:

"If _hypothetically speaking, _fate had it that the prophecy was not to occur, what would happen? And meanwhile we have that absolutely hideous Earl hunting the brat down…"

Rinali's eyes widened in horror, and the perverse general chuckled unpleasantly, a dark and mirthless sound that was not lost upon her in all its foreshadowing.

"Ex-ac-tly." Cross purred savagely and rolling the syllables around like candy in his mouth, glaring down at his own coat, or rather the Rose Cross insignia embroidered upon the front. "…Allen's the _sacrificial lamb_."

"But that can't be, it's-"

"Wrong. Everything's awry in the Order that the exorcists worship so much." Cross maintained, expelling more smoke in her general direction. "it works out either way for the Black Order- if the prophecy's right, Allen will save the day. End of story. But if it's wrong, the Earl will still target Allen, which buys them some time because Allen will try her best to not be killed off. She'll be formidable if she doesn't get killed off first and she's quite the charismatic figurehead for our cause. A little time bought with her sacrifice but not much. There is no loss. If she's not '_the one_' she's disposable like the rest of us and the Earl has just wasted a few years."

"…" His contempt for the Order that stood for everything she believed in was absolutely appalling, as well as the way he swore like Allen ate- in excess.

A random thought occurred to her: _Rabi _also preferred conspiracy theories, perhaps for their glamour and promise of thrills. She pushed it away, rebelliously unwilling to do the redhead an injustice by thinking of him when the only person she would see was Allen.

"You don't think the Order will go as far as to make a false prophecy, right?" Cross gave a sarcastic bark of laugher that sounded wolfish and fierce coming from his rather built frame. "Wrong- they'll go to great lengths just because they're the clergy. They'll do anything. Haven't you wondered why the entire destroyer-of-time-prophecy wasn't kept very secret? Why on earth would it be leaked out for the earl to discover and then target Allen?"

"Because…"

"Because they're stupid, right?"

Rinali winced openly. "….it's not that, it's….."

"Wrong." Cross crowed. "It's because they have a healthy sense of self-preservation. The more the Earl focuses on Allen, the less he'll have time for anything else. Including killing people and making more akuma- although at the moment their plan A doesn't seem to work very well. The Earl's still kicking back and making them like no tomorrow. Did I also mention that he wants to kill Allen?"

The last part was muttered in a very dark and low tone so that Rinali could barely catch his words, and as incensed as she was, she didn't bother to. "I don't know about you, General Cross, but everything my brother has worked for isn't a lie. The Order wouldn't do that." She told him coldly. "And are you saying the prophecy is false? _Hevlaska_ was the one who prophesized it…Hevlaska-san likes Allen."

"I merely _insinuated_. Moreover, Hevlaska has been in the Order longest of all the exorcists, and is connected to the higher-ups in a way we aren't. But that doesn't mean that I am right, hard as it is to believe." Cross deadpanned, with no trace of humor whatsoever and a wicked glint in his single eye. "I'd like to think that Hevlaska has retained _some_ integrity. The prophecy could be correct. It could also be, intentionally or not, dead wrong- and I mean dead. It's merely speculation on my part, once more. And of course, personal experience on past occurrences."

"Then why are you telling me this? Sir. it can be true and it can not be true..." Rinali added belatedly, so as to convey the proper respect that she honestly did not feel at the moment. _Why are you torturing me with telling me things I don't know and don't want to know because to some extent they are true and….and_…Rhode!

That accursed girl of a cursed lineage had said it as well, only in passing mention but it was highly likely that she had understood what she had been saying. The notion sickened Rinali to no end.

"Why Allen, then?" She asked him, wanting to pluck the infuriating pipe as well as the truth from his mouth and snap it in two, and then stomp it to pieces on the ground so that it could never be resurrected. "Why? Choosing one particular exorcist out of many makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, even for a false prophecy which is even more ridiculouser...ahem, ridiculous. Why not, say, Suman Dark? Or me? Or Rabi? Or Kanda? We are all exorcists."

It was not enough, the little jumbled and disjointed snippets of information he spoon-fed her in tiny little amounts, as if he wanted her to understand something which was completely out of her grasp.

"Allen is a particular one they've kept an eye on. In latent potential, the brat is one of the most amazing I've ever laid eyes on, and that isn't necessarily a good thing considering how parasitic types eat so much." Cross grumbled, no doubt without any intent to offend, although Rinali still felt the sting that the rest of them were…inadequate? "But most of all, Mana Walker- they're going to do the same thing they did to the kid as they did to the father. They made a scapegoat out of him then, and they're going to sacrifice the kid on the same altar of falsehood. But then again, that is only if the prophecy fails to establish itself in history."

"Mana…Walker. The father that Allen cries for every night."

"And how would you know that, missy?"

Rinali blushed a damson crimson, rendering herself unable to sputter out any excuses that sounded remotely like English. Cross chuckled, not very nicely. "Don't worry, I won't tell my idiot disciple. That's up to you to tell her yourself."

"What happened to him- this Walker-san?"

Cross's mood visibly darkened as he withdrew, removing his feet from her bench and lowering his hat. Rinali dodged the several puffs of smoke he emitted, waiting anxiously for his answer.

"That man is one of the reasons why Allen is being watched perpetually- they don't trust the kid after the father pulled something. Something happened to him that could possibly happen to your brother." Was all he told her, in low tones strangely somber and strangely foreboding.

Rinali did not hear from him for nearly an hour, a hour of uneasy peace when she could be unafraid of being insulted again, as the general slouched in his seat smoking away like a depressed chimney. She sat like a statue for the entire duration, feeling herself root to the ground in suspense and her mind sag in protest and turn to stone.

Then, out of nowhere as they passed a particularly beautiful scene of a lake: "He was the 'forgotten one.' 'The Unforgivable.' 'The Traitor.' Mana Walker was Komui's predecessor in the ranks of Chief Scientists. It was only after he was expelled was Komui then placed in charge of his experiments. As infernal a sis-con as your brother is, his intentions are always good and I don't blame him as it is."

"Blame Nii-san for what?" Rinali asked, half-apprehensive, half-eager to know more.

"For continuing on with some of Chief Walker's research- some of it was taboo. But I'm no one to say that, considering how I'm not exactly the most law-abiding man myself."

Now that she reflected upon it, Allen also had picked up on that most unsavory of traits of unscrupulousness. He…She… may have been a kind-hearted and sweet person, but needless to say she had dubious methods of gaining extra pocket money, like swindling an unsuspecting victim out of a game.

"Nii-san wouldn't do something like that." Rinali denied vehemently, all the while ironically remembering the illegal human experimentation that had been occurring for at the very least a decade before her entrance into the order.

_A sharp prick of a needle and its sedative running into her veins to every part of her body like water ran in a river's tributaries; a rough commanding voice, pain and pain and hurt at having to make herself subject to such demeaning and horrible tests- she had to kill, she had to mercilessly activate her dark boots when self-preservation kicked in and god no god no she didn't want to be shut in that room, not that dank little cell with the straitjacket…._

Rinali had no idea until she was trembling until she heard Cross's distinct rumble of a chuckle. "Remembering what they did to you, aren't you?"

"The _Togachi_…"

"Yes- that was one of them. There were worse experiments though," Cross said. "And then there was the very worst. Even I think it's awful, and no doubt you've already heard from my uncute disciple how depraved I am- my reputation precedes me, doesn't it?"

"…_Depraved, cowardly, slacking, womanizing, unreasonable, filthy, perverted man-slut who whores around indiscreetly_…" Rinali murmured under her breath before realizing just what things she had just uttered. "I'm so sorry- I didn't mean it-"

"No, it's just all Allen's fault, of course." Rinali did not like the strange and ominous glint in the general's eye that promised ill fortune to said exorcist. She giggled nervously, twisting her tattered skirt in her hands in lieu of strangling Allen. "But let me tell you one thing, girl, and if you walk out of this train being anything, let it be a sadder and wiser exorcist."

"What is it, sir?"

"Your beloved Nii-sama might never do something like that, _he_ wouldn't conduct morally wrong and sinful experiments like what happened in Mana Walker's time. But a _scientist_ in the Black Order would, if pressured. Have you gotten the point through your thick head yet?"

Rinali was stunned. She never would have guessed.

"So," Continued Cross in a morbidly blithe way, "Which do you think he is first? How do you see him?- Brother or scientist? He'll need to choose someday, and so will you."

"That's blasphemy-"

"Heh. I thought you were a smart girl- enough of the blasphemy against the church and all that stuff they brainwashed you into. They've really fucked you up, haven't they."

Rhode's exact words, quoted verbatim back at her, burnt like fire into her soul. "Rhode said that."

"Did she? She hasn't half the sense that Tyki has, although by all rights they're very fucked up themselves in thinking that the world must die and humankind with it. They've really taken an active role in making the world miserable as of late, and I must say they're doing a commendable job of it."

Rinali sighed, unable to comprehend why the strange general spoke of them as if he was describing a familiar, abet unpleasant, bunch of acquaintances and she came to the conclusion that he knew them from battles.

"Don't think you're protected because you're one of the Order's own. We all are. It just so happens that the Walkers will get hurt first, all in the name of _good_. Who do you think will be next?"

"But sir, I don't understand, why? How do they mean to hurt us? Why would the order deliberately hurt us?"

"They don't."

Rinali sputtered in indignation. "But, General, that's not what you said!"

"I meant that they don't deliberately hurt us. All they want to do is keep the church's reputation blemish free- in other words, people who don't conform to their rigid rules get exterminated. They hurt people by using them, too, like Allen. And finally people who speak out against that and the corruption and the taboo experiments get hurt."

"Mana Walker, right? He worked on those experiments."

"And they used him as a damned scapegoat for 'em. But that's a long story, and technically speaking if I told you I'd have to kill you." Cross took a deep drag on his pipe. "And even the obedient, heroic-obsessed people like Allen who do every little thing you tell them to do- if they want to use you, they sure as hell will. She's living only to kill akuma and that's what is used against her and also is what ties her to them, because she can't do anything else. Hope demands a fucking messiah- whether or not it's real, the church will give people one in the form of an innocent _little girl_ who's in way over her head."

It was the first true emotion that Rinali had seen in Cross; A spasm of pain that passed over his face almost imperceptibly, and so quickly she was wondering whether it was just her or was such a jaded and rough man capable of compassion? And she saw, truly, that he did care for his idiot disciple, no matter how he tried to keep a safe distance away from her by verbally abusing her and making her hate him.

"They don't care about her, they don't care about Komui and they don't care about you or me. We're expendable." He nearly snarled at her. "So watch your back, since it'll make life easier for your brother- he's been watching out for you ever since he became the chief, but he won't last forever and he can't hide in the shadows for long."

"Why are you telling me this?" Rinali stammered out, confused and overwhelmed by information overload.

Cross looked at her. "Sleep on it and you'll figure it out." He told her brusquely. "And anything for a pretty girl."

Rinali did not blush, although in any other situation she might have, at such a compliment paid by one of the order's most stunning specimens of the male gender. His tone had been evasive and careless, as if he had wanted to subtly warn her. "Thank you. Sir."

"I'll switch with general Nine, then." Cross made to leave, sweeping his hat back upon his head of red hair and taking his suitcase in hand.

"General Cross- can I ask just one more question?"

"No, but go ahead."

"Does Allen know about all of this? The prophecy and her father?"

The general looked at the floor. "No." He said. "No. I'd rather she didn't know, that she still believed in what could very damned well possibly be a lie. And it would be the kindest thing to do if she was left uninformed."

The words 'kind' and 'General Cross' did not fit together very well in Rinali's opinion.

"Her father- she trusts the order and the prophecy. It's her life, to kill akuma! And all of us, we believe in her, in hope, and we believe that-"

"That's exactly why I won't tell her and neither will you. Because she believes and everyone else is stupid believe the same, and to crush that belief will be tantamount to killing her." Cross told her coldly.

"But what she doesn't know _will _kill her!"

"We'll just have to hope that the prophecy is true, then."

He left, leaving Rinali with a migraine and many unanswered and unasked questions that bubbled like some foul, viscous concoction of curiosity in her soul, tainting it with a poison that was liberating and deadly at the same time.

She wanted to talk to Allen, or better yet, since she did not feel up to confronting the younger exorcist, Rabi. Rabi was unbiased, did not hate the Order like Cross did, was not indifferent like Kanda was, and most of all was not Allen and possessed none of Allen's idealistic beliefs that were simple-minded to a fault. A bookman would know everything, she reasoned.

But could any evidence be enough to move her belief in something that had always been so constant for her? If the prophecy and the Order were not true, what was? If Allen was not the destroyer of time, there could be no explanation to such a remarkable person existing. Such a remarkable person that she had fallen in and out of love with. In the end, it all boiled down to how she believed in Allen.

A tear slipped down her cheek as Nine entered the car. Rinali hastily wiped it away with the back of her hand, wishing that she had taken Cross's handkerchief after all.


	40. A Modest Little Proposal

Disclaimer: i don't own D. gray man.

A/N: Plot twist. I've been hinting at it for the past few chapters already that there'll be something going on with the Earl, and the Bookman, maybe Lavi.

Ch. 40

Walking in Circles

Tyki lazily plucked Timcanpi from the air as it divebombed him for the umpteenth time, in its pitiful attempts to place its insignificantly tiny form between himself and Allen and at the same time kill him as well. He supposed that he should be relieved that the eccentric Cross had not deigned to endow Timcanpi with fighting abilities, as if the little razor-like teeth were not enough to deter even the most steel of wills.

It was sad, so pitifully sad. If the cheating 'boy' his white side was acquainted with would never be able to play cards again. He still had yet to win, and good poker players were a dime a dozen, and the best cheaters once in a lifetime.

"Nnnn." Tyki smiled at her feeble attempt to return to consciousness, and her face once more crumpled back into its dulled and blank expression of deep sleep after that initial spasm of waking. Allen's head had fallen to one side, slender little neck exposed and startling in its openness to any harm or danger that could befall it.

She was _human_, he realized with sudden irony, as if the thought had failed to strike home until then, and had just conveniently eluded his mind due to either the Earl's insistence that the Noah brethren never sentimentalize their enemies or his own ignorance.

When faced with such a snarling hostility that blatantly smirked its youthful and jaded smile in his face, Tyki felt that Allen Walker appeared less than the human hero the false gods made her out to be.

But still, how characteristically _human_, how weak. His eyes fell to his own hand as he slipped off his white glove, revealing the caramel-hued dark skin underneath that rippled silkily and stretched over sinew and gristle and the bones of his knuckles, several shades darker than hers.

Human skin, pulled taut and sleek and tight over the hollow bones of his skeletal frame and his inherited Noah innards making him no less of an akuma.

She stirred, a stray little strand of hair flipping over her cheek and drawing attention to the way that there was some misplaced color, or shadow that wasn't supposed to be cast on the skin in such dim light- the unnaturally matte finish of some powder or cream, no doubt. No matter how carefully it was applied, it wasn't flawless, and in front of the doors of heaven, beyond which she was destined to depart, all masquerades were shed. He could look past the false contours that the makeup had filled and angled her face with, and see the small and limpid little face underneath.

Why was it so necessary so that she conceal herself like such, even now when the Earl was knowledgeable of all?

Tyki rested his hand on her throat, fascinated with the way it rose and fell under his touch and how he could count the breaths, expelled in shallow little gasps from her mouth. One, two- breathe. One, two-breathe. One, two-

He applied a little pressure, his golems hovering enthusiastically and ghosting over her helpless figure. The exorcist gave a little choked whimper in her sleep, before he removed his hand once more, if almost sadistically toying with the idea of delivering death.

How many more breaths would she take? He could take charge of it all.

Tyki he could feel overly warm, smooth and vibrant skin in the fullness of youth. Nary a wrinkle and nary a single blemish of age, but it would never be long until the destroyer of time was ultimately destroyed by the very thing she sought to fight.

A single slip of a hand, a gentle press in the right place, a curling and curving word thrown lightly to one of his sweet little butterfly golems- a life could end.

With the exorcist limp and unconscious on the couch, it would take such minimal effort to nudge her gently into a deeper and sweeter and eternal sleep, to tip her over the brink between existing and….not existing.

Tyki Mick saw red, the delicious crimson clouding all reason and sight.

So simple, to kill. It would be better than sex and better than any high that opium could imbue- to feel life in his hands and have it drip away drop by drop past his fingers, running into the earth and feeding it in a vicious cycle of violence begetting life.

The delicious ease of killing was so seductive, was so alluring, and God oh God he needed it now, needed the blood and the gore and the carnage and the screams and needed it so bad, the way his blood rushed in his ears and throbbed in the back of his eyes, awaiting and yearning for immediate release.

Not knowing why, he denied himself it, and restrained the wild eyed horned beast within him from gaining its black dominance over his body. Like always, he was able to maintain a state of limbo- an indeterminable, neither this or that gray between black and white- gray was his entire world and what he saw.

So caught up in his inner struggle was he that Tyki had nearly missed the appearance of his fellow Noah and colleague in the Earl's scenario.

"Careful, Tyki-pon." Were the first words that Rhode had said once she had suddenly appeared in the room, her little knowing smile revealing a slim and strangely seductive sliver of pearly fanged teeth. "…Your White Side is showing…can't have that, can we? Why don't you let your Black self take over?"

Ah. So it was no aberration, his moment of hesitance and almost awe in realizing that his enemy was like him. It was merely the indecisiveness and caprices of his more uncertain White self, whom was arguably much more of a nice fellow than his black side.

Tyki had considered the notion of simply giving in to his black side before, but had discarded the idea as to lose control of his own body, which would ultimately happen if his black self was exposed to the world too much, would be the least advantageous thing possible. Perhaps it was an unconscious reflex, and he was aware that the Earl would like nothing better than to break him of that habit, but for Tyki it was second nature.

It would be a painful, wonderful release he could do without, as he knew that the best would come last and no, it was not the last. Perhaps it was entirely self-interest on his own part, to keep his personality divided neatly into two hemispheres tailored carefully to two professions and two men and two different lives. More for the sake of preservation of his white self.

Tyki gave Rhode a glare. Just because his black side was not dominant did not at all entail that his white side was. Gray. A gray man in a black and white world of polarities and opposites, of magnetism and opinions and pepper and dress suits.

"My most sincere apologies, then." Tyki returned smoothly, and removed his hand from carefully stroking Allen's hair with a grim look on his face. Rhode had remarked on it so carelessly and easily as if she was only reminding him to zip up his fly or tuck his shirt in neatly.

"You're prolonging the moment. Don't want to kill an exorcist?" Playfully, sweetly, poisonously, her eyes narrowed with a feral felinity that warned him of his status and hers.

"Ah. Of course I do." Tyki returned smoothly. "But I would prefer it that it were a time and place of my own choosing."

"Maybe. I like Allen a lot, too. It doesn't matter about gender to me." Rhode said nonchalantly. "But the Earl wants the destroyer of time killed off, and that would eliminate a threat. So why not now?"

Tyki nearly burst out into laughter. "Saaa….I don't know." He mused. "We're Noahs after all."

"But we're still human. She's human" Rhode pointed out.

We're Noahs- the opposite of exorcists, the other polarity that was so misunderstood by all.

Human like little Jean and his friends and his white self.

He carried its pleasure and moreover, the pain of it, within his Noah blood- one or the other and he could give up neither, was not willing to relinquish the little joys he found in such a dual existence. But blood excited his Noah self and caused the marrow of his sensitive bones to flutter and liquidate in a slow, sensual heat- that of bloodwrath. All Noahs walked the warpath, whether it be the twins, Rhode, or Lulubell, or Skin.

Innocent-looking Rhode in her sweetly cloying infantilism could very well be a ravaging goddess of war in her very own right in any moment. Tyki himself cast his white persona aside when circumstances demanded him to, when occurrence made it impossible for said persona to exist.

"Why do you push it back?"

Tyki was fully aware of what Rhode meant, the way he restrained his Black Side and his White side and kept them in completely separate spheres and walks of life.

"…I just want to."

To protect himself- a leftover and selfish strain passed down by the pleasures that ran in his Noah blood.

If only to retain and the carefree innocence of his white side, the smiles of his humans friends, and who he was- not a Noah, but Tyki. Just Tyki of the black soot and sweat-stained work clothes and the thick bottle-cap glasses. He would protect that. "My white side needs to be different from my black side, and they're two separate people anyhow."

Rhode gave him a lazy look, as if to tell him that she on the other hand could be less concerned about his own psychological well-being, even if she was. "Well…" Her voice turned upwards into a dreadful, playful little lilt. "Look what we have here."

Tyki watched her silently as she skipped over to Allen and sighed, full well knowing what was yet to come.

Timcanpi, forgotten, fluttered angrily, but its sharp little teeth and the many little bites that it caused had never caused the Noah so much as a yelp of pain. In fact, Tyki was holding it with its wings clamped behind it, so that it was pinioned firmly and rendered helpless to aid the little brat whom Cross had entrusted to it, who happened to be at the moment out like a light and thusly submissive to any treatment of Rhode's whatsoever.

Certainly, Allen Walker was a very interesting person when awake, but when completely vulnerable and unnaturally passive it was extremely amusing. It was not without a little satisfied savage smirk that he wallowed in the oh-so-delicious irony: the pitiful fact that remained behind the Black Order's intentions, that they entrusted the world to a daft, uncute little white-haired punk. Who was currently being trussed up in frills and silk and God knew what Rhode fancied to dress her living dolls in.

"…Must you really do that? That's not very nice to sick people, especially since you didn't ask their permission first." Tyki watched on, half amused and half annoyed at Rhode's acquisition of her latest plaything, as she dolled the unresponsive and sleeping exorcist up in articles of clothing that were of…questionable taste, he decided, at the very best. "And weren't you supposed to be at the Black Order Headquarters?"

"Mmph, I was finished with tearing it down a long time ago." Rhode said, lacing the bodice up. "It was fun, but not _that_ fun. That meany Cross-chan had to come, and he killed a lot of akuma."

An injured sniffle, dramatics courtesy of the Earl's lax upbringing of the spoiled girl. Tyki ignored her show in favor of focusing on what was much more interesting a bit of information- yes, akuma were killed, but to think that the infamous general would be returning.

"_Cross_?" Tyki mused.

"Yes,_that _Cross. The one who's never around." Rhode supplied helpfully. "Well, sort of. He actually does do his job and sleep around at the same time, ya know. to popular belief, but I know that, of course. So that womanizer's finally back from New York, I see. No doubt he has already been informed of our work in England, so I assume that London will be the next place he goes to. I've heard he was a fair hand at gambling in his younger days."

"_Booooorrrinnng._ But that means we have to go too, and I hate London." Rhode whined. "It's _always _raining. I hate it there."

"On the other hand, _I_ don't." Tyki remarked lightly, obediently handing her the sash she gestured impatiently for, all the while not understanding why he was aiding and abetting her in such an inane, childish activity. "And you really don't have to accompany me, since I have the situation there under control. I don't need your help there."

"Aaathat's so cold, Tyki-pon." Rhode gave a stay a particularly hard tug, and smoothed the exorcist's hair down. "That's only because you actually _like_ operating a gambling ring. Those stupid Brits are stupid enough to be conned by you….Oooh, doesn't she look pretty?"

She gestured to Allen. Tyki shrugged, looking away. Rhode had confirmed that the young exorcist was most definitely 100 girl, and if he had any doubts before, they had dissipated by now.

"Pretty enough. I'm only…. _working_ with some of the British aristocracy for now, since they're only greedy gits who only want to further their own careers."

Rhode gave a little grimace. "They're rich- whaddaya think they really need? They don't need to work."

"You'd be surprised; they're mostly businessmen anyhow, investors in companies and more revenue equals more money for them, anyhow. That's where the gambling comes in- they make more capital to feed into their factories and they have fun doing it."

"Mou, you're such a meanie. Using people like that."

"Me, mean? Not that you have any right to speak, Rhode Camelot. We are doing it for a good cause-We're Noahs."

"NeTyki….I'm boooorrrred…"

As if she hadn't been happily playing dress-up-exorcist-doll only five minutes ago.

To some extent, Tyki understood why she had chosen to all of a sudden appear before him under the pretense that she was on a mission; In reality Tyki was of the opinion that the most diminutive Noah was bored out of her mind and needed to vent her frustrations by killing something. Vienna was certainly the place to do that, but he had been almost relieved when she decided to play at dolls instead of interfering with his assignment.

"Honestly, Rhode- I need to begin the akuma siege soon on the city; Can't you go find the Earl or something?" But as usual, complaining never rattled Rhode and she hummed a tuneless song as she continued playing.

"…This or that, Tyki-pon? Do you like this dress or the other one? Nah, I like this one-" Rhode ignored his sighs. "-it's nice and frilly."

Tyki rolled his eyes, wondering why she had even bothered to pose a question to him if she never intended to consider his opinion in the first place.

A dress that was short enough to appeal to even the more lurid of sexual fetishes, enough lace to make a bed of, and last but not least a full frothy ribbon holding back stray strands of hair. Timcanpi hissed protectively, and its golden little wings put a little more pressure against the pads of his fingers, but to little avail.

Tyki quirked an eyebrow, not entirely sure about how he felt about Rhode playing around on the job, and with Allen Walker no less. It certainly removed much of the self-righteous, indignant pride in duty that said prophesized Destroyer of Time normally wore like an iron mask.

As much as he knew the exorcist was their enemy and a main obstacle to their goal, he could not help but feel a tinge of sympathy because no matter how evil someone was, they most definitely did not deserve to be subjected to Rhode's fits of inspiration.

It was just so much easier when the victim was not struggling and was unconscious, he reflected, grimly noting the way Rhode had put the other girl in thick frilly petticoats and a lacey black dress that clung to her breasts and hips in a fashion that left very little to the imagination.

"I don't think you should do that." The Portuguese Noah told her in long-suffering tones, all the while gazing remorselessly at the revealed expanse of thigh.

Lots of exposed skin, more than he cared to see but it was all in good sample anyhow, wasn't it- an exorcist was still a girl after all. She was a girl in the very end, just a girl of flesh and blood and bone and with none of the trappings and renown and prophecy to elevate her to something significant.

Looking like any other human girl, looking so young and untouched and so_ human_. Tyki glanced at Rhode- the eldest of the Noahs had been like that at one time, no doubt.

Rhode glared at him. He looked away with a shrug. "Put her back in her original clothes and leave her alone for now, can't you. If you want to play dress-up, at the very least wait til she's lucid and well enough to play along."  
Rhode pouted but complied, removing even the lipstick.

"Don't touch her other makeup." Tyki instructed her needlessly. "She needs to look like a boy- the Earl said not to interfere with her yet."

"Of course not, Tyki-pon." Rhode confirmed. "It's so much _funner_ that way. I told Rinali that she's female, though."

_Funner?-_ As far as he was concerned, that wasn't even a real word. Tyki had thought that Rhode was at the very least passing English.

He would have sworn that Cross's golem had vocally snarled at her. The little yellow golem had renewed its feeble efforts to escape, and Tyki tightened his pinch on its wings with a little more strength.

"No doubt she took it…badly?" Tyki finished lamely, unable to come up with a passive-aggressive word that would describe the normally gentle temperament of the Chinese exorcist.

Rhode cackled, and Tyki took that as assent. Timcanpi, in his grip, gnashed its razor-sharp teeth and he laughed.

"We'll just have to keep these for next time then, exorcist-chan." She purred, folding the dress and other articles up and stowing it away. She did detach Allen's hood from her exorcists' cloak as a keepsake. "Where's Earl-tama?"

"Trying to coerce a potential ally over to our side."

"Aa. I'll won't go find him yet, then, it's boring." Like magic, the child-like Noah suddenly produced from the folds of her dress an indistinguishable boxy shape that Tyki peered at curiously.

"What's that?"

"A violin."

"I didn't know music was one of your hobbies." The Portuguese Noah said mildly, giving the delicate instrument a dubious glance, curious about how the instrument would survive a single one of the normally tone-deaf Rhode's temporary fits of playfulness or frustration. In fact, he wasn't aware of the fact that Rhode had any other hobbies other than killing, torturing exorcists, and playing with dolls.

"Earl-tama has his organ-"

"Piano."

"-yeah, piano, organ, same thing." Rhode said dismissively. "So I wanna play something too."

"Can't control the ark with it though." Rhode being able to control anything with a violin and her infamous skill at music- or lack of thereof- was horrifying. Tyki could name many reasons, the least of which including Rhode's troubling hand-to-eye coordination, which would at the very least hamper the reading of sheet music.

Tyki sighed and bit back a warning not to get into trouble as Rhode departed via her fanciful illusion-world door that she always used for a quick method of transportation- no doubt leaving to cause a little bit more chaos in a world that was already kinetic with its own chaotic friction, thanks to humans and the sind they carried.

"Now, what am I to do with you?" He mused, threading white-gloved fingers through whiter hair, merely stroking it as he would a pet. "Kill you? Now? The Earl would like that, but he never specified when. That's no fun…Rhode would probably kill _me_ first, since she really likes you."

The Noah gave a sigh, and checked his watch. A small smile curved his mouth as he realized that it would be about five in the morning in Britain, when the impoverished workers of the cities' lowest and dirt-poorest inhabitants would begin their daily toils.

Life wasn't fair, it truly wasn't, and he could positively attest to that because of his white side's experiences as a common man.

Hard at work while the aristocrats gambled and cheated the halcyon days away, the spoils from the games going to create more mega-factories to buy smaller ones out. His white side was one of those workers in the factories that they brought out; His black side was one of them, one of the gamblers who put illicitly won capital into their business, and then reaped in the profits.

Quite a fitting paradox that even he was unable to resolve.

Surprisingly deft even with only one free hand, Tyki removed cards from his breast pocket; Shuffled it and drew an ace out at random, before turning the golem's record function on, much to its obvious displeasure. He nearly snickered, imagining the infuriated look that would no doubt cross the Destroyer of Time's face once the kid realized that he had left a little calling card, or rather a message, on her master's golem.

"Testing…1…2…3…Alright." The Noah faced Timcanpi with a leer, starting the recording. "The reason why, Allen-_chan_, I'm not killing you now is because one, Rhode would slaughter me first and two, you're no fun when you're so weak. So, instead of me killing you, I want you to come and try to kill me- that's what you really want to do, don't you."

Here he paused a little, with a little smirk, for Timcanpi's lens to catch the video of his gently ruffling her hair, if only for the sense of her vulnerability to sink in, and the helplessness of her situation.

Hours later, or maybe days if she honestly was as ill as she looked, she would watch the recording and no doubt be incited to blindly charge into a death match. However, Tyki had a feeling that he certainly was not giving her the credit that she deserved, as after all she was the Destroyer of Time and surviving so long in such a thankless occupation was rather impressive, considering since the Earl seemed to be out for her head.

"So…We'll meet up sometime in Europe. I'd really like to play you if you went to England to investigate- I know for sure your order will know about the gambling rings there because your master was looking into it when he was in New York." He continued on blithely. "If there's anyone who can give me a run for the jackpot, it'd be you. So…I'll be waiting for you. I'll even give you a hint where to find me-'_rakuen_.' Ja ne."

His expertise in rigging games was extraordinary, but it could never surpass the Earl's. Allen Walker was just the Order's ace, marked on the back side of the card, so as for easy spotting. Allen Walker was only a final resort as the Destroyer of Time, one that had to be removed from the game as quickly as possible or countered with a confederate card.

Until then, being dealt, shuffled, and distributed to faceless players- she was significant as the possible hand to end everything.

It was all bait, after all.

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_Rome, Library. _

_Bookman pov: _

'Rakuen'- a secret that remained behind the closed gates of the Garden of Eden, watched over by an archangel with a sharpened sword meant to detain any trespasser from discovering the lushness within.

The single word had morphed into thoughts that occupied his mind feverishly, many options and odds and chances and theories slithering like a snake through his mind.

A mystery that posed the most challenge that he had had in many years, and the Bookman honestly cared not even if he was caught between his job as exorcist and his more encompassing, important role as Bookman.

Seeing as searching had produced little that he was able to use, at the moment he was only capable of discerning the fact that the material he was researching was top-secret Order documents. The Order would not appreciate outsiders like Bookmen to expose secrets that they felt best lie forgotten.

A shiver passed down the Bookman's back of near delight and almost, youth, to think of all the possibilities that such a secret could warrant. A secret so carefully hoarded away and guarded jealously- the fact that it was so protected and concealed spoke of many things, of scandals and corruption and most of all, shame.

Otherwise, giving how the Order was so blatant to the point of near arrogance in pronouncing to the world their long legacy of saving humans (one millennia of excellence in exorcism!), there would be no need to cover anything.

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"…_Treachery is punishable by death….On the first of January, the former Chief Scientist Mana Walker will be executed on the scaffold…."_

_A decade had not dulled the remembrance of the shock that had spread in general ripples throughout the Order personnel, and then as quickly as it had occurred, had been forcibly tampered down by tight-lipped officers. _

_The Bookman recalled numbness as Hevlaska read the guilty verdict after very little deliberation from the now apparently rigged jury, a somewhat familiar feeling he had not been exposed to in a very long time since the very first time nearly fifty years ago when he was a rookie Bookman and had seen his first death. _

_This quiet noble man was to die for an unknown reason. _

_Wail, for the World's wrong. _

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_He,_that obese and frightening person, had came without a single warning, in typical flamboyant drama. His entrance was flashy and flamboyant and excessive as the paunch that he carried around under his bulky white coat, and his leering presence seemed to take all the warmth out of the room.

The Bookman futilely braced himself-The gust of wind that had accompanied the Millennium Earl's sudden appearance knocked over shelves and shelves of books so that they all fell in true domino fashion, setting off an unfortunate chain of events that culminated in the disorder of the entire library. Needless to say, there was little to do to prevent the imminent damage already done, as the Bookman thought as he surveyed the room.

Just five minutes ago he had been conducting research peacefully.

The Bookman dropped his cup of coffee, the dregs long cold in the duration of him pondering the mystery of 'rakuen,' and leapt out of the way before he was crushed by a bookshelf. Dust of a thousand years of existence had wafted from the disturbed books, many of which were ancient, and he had to cough in an effort to keep his lungs clear.

His age was indiscreetly sinking like into his bones with the manifest of decreasing bone density and stiffness, he thought with a slight regret as he silently regarded his enemy. After age was the final culmination of all men- death. It could not come late enough, as fate had it.

To his credit, the Bookman's hands did not tremble with age or exhaustion or even anger as he reached for his innocence-laden needles. The chances of winning this particular battle was slim, and even then he could not hope to expect to have his normally flexible and agile body perform as it used to, in the same boneless fluidity that Rabi could now achieve after much practice.

"What a surprise, Millenium Earl. What business do you have here today?" The Bookman said politely.

"Good evening♥" The millennium earl chuckled, baring his oversized teeth in a viciously sweet smile that was nearly taunting and lampooning his vulnerability. The bookman however stood in his usual stooped manner, not yet making any move to defend himself. Any attack or defense would be interpreted as hostility, and there was no need to provoke such a dangerous opponent as the Earl into action.

"And to you." The Bookman said flatly, in frosty statement. "And why would you grace me with your presence today? Or am I wrong in thinking that I am a target on your list to hunt down?"

"No, no. I wouldn't think of killing you now- I'm friendly and harmless" The Earl returned easily. "But maybe later For now, I have a modest little proposal to make. ♥"

As a recorder of time and all its unnoticed little details hidden within bias, who had borne ink-laced witness upon a paper medium of the best and the worst and the most despicable and the most heroic moments of human nature, the Bookman had always felt incomparable to the Earl.

The Millenium Earl was history embodied, as well as evil incarnate of all the terrible cruelties that had been dealt to the human race, whether by other humans or those pitiful soldiers of hell he called akuma.

"…A modest little proposal?" He asked suspiciously, ignoring the archaic and pompous way the earl always referred to himself with.

"One that would not require the sacrifice of many little human children. ♥" The Earl maintained with utmost calm, without batting an eye. "Although that was entirely the idea of you disgusting humans…and you still dare accuse me of being sick. ♥"

The Bookman did not even deign to flinch at how awfully _condescending_ the Earl was being, and only gave an ironic little snort at the reference to Swift's satirical pamphlet, knowing full well that while humans may have thought that up as a parody of the economic situation, it was only pretty good satire at the very worst. On the other hand, the Earl might have actually executed it since it was very good impetus for causing death that he wouldn't miss for the world.

Of course, needless to say, it was very bad taste of the Earl's to use that as an example, and it was ironic as well since the Earl would be no different in having a proposal that would be just as horrific as infantilism and cannibalism.

Any scheme that the Earl would dream up would most likely entail of some sort of loophole and one-sided advantages for the Noahs' side only; There was no integrity in an agreement of that sort when the Earl was the epitome of dishonesty.

"…Do you doubt me? Why?♥"

"I believe that I have all reasons to, and your actions as far as I am informed of only belies your supposed intent of being friendly and harmless." The Bookman replied curtly, with the barest hint of deadly intent. "So if your business is finished, please leave. This is Order property." Order property, and he was trespassing upon it as a bookman doing research for his own wily purposes, to perhaps uncover something that the Order would otherwise forbid him to see.

"Leave? You're not in any position to make any demands. ♥"

And indeed he was not; The Bookman wet the inside of his mouth, which he had barely noticed had gone dry with a curious mixture of fear and anticipation. "I will not die here- I have too much to do, too much history to record." He informed the Earl dryly, as if that would at least stave off impending death. One had behind his back was preparing to activate his innocence, preemptive caution in case if his opponent saw fit to land a blow first.

"You're from the Bookman clan, so of course. ♥ But I told you already I didn't come to fight, just to talk"

The Bookman was not taken off guard by the almost mockingly whining, mock-hurt tone in the Earl's lilting voice, instead shifting his feet a little wider in a firmer stance so as to gear up for a possible battle. "I speak not to a coward whose plan of universal homicide is carried out mostly by mind-controlled lackeys." He murmured, not caring how intentionally prejudiced against the Earl he was sounding- and well he should have because he was an exorcist as well as a bookman. "My time is of utmost value to me, so if you would kindly state your intentions as quickly as possible…."

"Come now that isn't fair. My akuma are my dear little pets."

"Pets. Pets."

"Yes. ♥"

The Bookman smiled. "They were humans once- you would like to conquer humanity, but do you really love the world as all that? We humans are your raw materials, your resources, but you still want this world as your own."

"No. I only want to get rid of the pestilence that is the human race."

"Your Noahs are human as well. You defy your own principles…"

"Aah, that's not fair either. But I do go against my better judgment-You are an apostle, but I now am kind enough to offer to you a…"

The Bookman raised a grey eyebrow. The Earl paused, as if for added flair. "….A truce. ♥"

"A truce?" The Bookman, normally an enigmatic man himself, was barely able to wonder just what treachery was lying in store this particular time, especially since the offer- if it was considered an offer- was unreasonable and preposterous.

"_A truce_♥" The Earl confirmed. "We are truly not meant to be enemies, Bookmen and Noahs. We, after all, are on the same side- that of history."

"Indeed to some extent you do have a point, but how you have conducted yourself and your akuma are against the viewpoint of which I represent."

In addition, the Earl had no reason to propose a truce, or at the very least from what the elderly exorcist was able to see; As far as the future was concerned, the world was spiraling quickly down into some sort of hell on earth, and it looked as if the order would be helpless to conquer it.

At the moment, giving the situation, the Earl would be the victor. But a day, a month, a year- any single given moment could be the turning point. Any single exorcist, who awakened to a miracle, could be the heart. Prophecies, last threads of hope in a spinning tangled web of unknown variables, could finally surface.

Would it happen in his life time, or in Rabi's? The Angel in Eden- was this the day? The day of judgment with brands of fire and bell knolls tolling the end?

The Bookman regarded the Earl warily. History repeated itself, and that much was certain and the wrath of the Lord as well since He always kept His promises to his humans. "Why?" He asked, carefully?

"Bookmen are wise." The Earl returned evasively. "Aren't you?"

Wise. The Bookman mentally batted ineffectually at the notion for a few seconds before letting it drift away since it wasn't a compliment and he didn't need compliments.

"You know things within the Order that you doubt and are not brainwashed into overlooking, since you're a Bookman first and foremost, although you cannot choose sides."

Even in all his years the Bookman had never felt wise, felt as if it was never enough, that no matter how much he had lived through and how much he had studied, it was neverending and never truly and completely fulfilling. The long span of time, bridging past to present to future went on and on like a uncurling scroll, spanning centuries and millennium and would still exist after he was gone.

It would continue to unfurl, after the Bookmen of yore were forgotten, and the complete fruits of their work could only be sought in private thoughts and a weak smile- a weak smile of yes, I have accomplished something.

The Bookman was almost disgusted with himself, that he would entertain such selfish notions. But time bred attachments, and he would be loathe to admit that supporting the Order was something bred out of habit and unquestioned.

"Do…" The Bookman chose his words with minuscule care, for fear that a single misplaced word would convey meaning that could be used against him. "Right now, which do you speak to- the bookman or the exorcist?"

They were two people within him and within Rabi, the two more uniform and melded together in the redhead because of inexperience, but there were two different motives and tasks all the same.

The Earl chuckled unpleasantly, and the Bookman waited for his answer.

"Oh ho, ho. The _Bookman_, of course. The exorcist has no ears for one whose plan of world domination is carried out by lackeys. The exorcist is blind to reason."

The exorcist was not blind to reason- Bookman could have safely said that all of the courageous men and women doing their thankless jobs were some of the more remarkable people to be forgotten in the annals of time. Each and every one were motivated. It was only their minds that were corrupted, but the human soul within was good and untainted.

Tainted. History and time and unwritten events slipping through the serpentine grasp of its handlers, whom would have been bound by duty to face the beast that was life and confront their mistakes.

The act of hiding something only told of eerie wrongs and secrets meant to be hidden, representing an inner unknown evil that otherwise would have been exposed.

The Bookman pursed his lips, wet them unsuccessfully and expelled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He was defying the authority of his bosses and investigating the Order as a Bookman, not exorcist; Ironically, the fact that at the moment he was not on duty as an exorcist provided temporary but not certain and unconditional protection from the Earl.

"Bookmen are the wardens of history. They are required to record it by living it. ♥"

History was a living, breathing, crying, dying, fighting thing out on the battlefield. History was a young redhead torn between his heart and his duty. History was a white-haired exorcist with a prophecy. History was Komui and Hevlaska and the staff and what they achieved every day in their offices. History was a broken mug of cold coffee. History was their future.

"Yes, that would be correct." The Bookman stated coolly.

"They are unbiased. ♥"

"True once more." Almost petulantly juvenile, matter-of-fact ways like innocently-posed statements to prolong the conversation was a tactic he did not expect from the earl.

The Bookman did not shrug, although it was strangely difficult enough not to keep a Rabi-like sort of gesture from embedding itself in his body language, too long had the Bookman been living with the teen and to no good result.

"They must not tamper with the chronicled past, and must unflinchingly present it to the world as it is, without any purposeful intent to mislead or conceal♥"

The Bookman froze, now entirely sure that this encounter he was having with the earl was no coincidence. There were too many possibilities, among them being the Earl's true motives, but at the moment he had found a thread leading backwards into this spun net of deceit and secrets.

"…._What do you know about Mana Walker?_" He asked, in a low voice. Half-hesitant because he was at a crossroad and a fork in the road, now neither bookman or exorcist but only a human being with curiosity to bring a buried time and occurrence back to life. Mana Walker was the root of all the secrets, the torn-out pages, the word Rakuen, the forbidden projects silently conducted behind close doors.

The Earl shot him a sly smile, half-coy and half-arrogant. "Eeeh, I wonder. ♥ He's little Allen's father. And…."

_Held out the forbidden fruit, the red apple shining with sateen skin and lush and ripe and voluptuous with knowledge. Offered in his gloved hand was the key to the door, the secrets and what had been left out with impunity for the future never to know. _

_The Bookman could nearly taste the illicit flesh of fruit_, _and he wanted_, no, needed, _to know_.

"And?"

"…Does your order know that you are investigating Mana Walker?" The Earl said in a surprisingly sinuous voice for a man of such incredible girth. "He had been sentenced to death and has been blacked out from their memories and their books willfully."

"Why?" The one question that, if answered, could be the key to everything.

"Like a parent punishes a wayward child, even if the parent was to blame for the child rebelling. If the parent is bad, what should the child do? ♥ 'To God, I wept, and said, ah, when at last we lie with trancèd breath, not vexing Thee in death, and Thou rememberest of what toys we made our joys...'"

The allusion to a family was somewhat strange, but if taken into context it did strike home."How weakly understood Thy great commanded good; then, fatherly not less than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay, Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say, 'I will be sorry for their childishness.'" The Bookman doth quote back.

The Earl smiled.

It was only after some perusing a few hours ago that the Bookman had come to the conclusion that a crime that would have warranted such punishment for Chief Walker- a punishment of being executed and then condemned to be forgotten by all- would have been one of some magnitude.

"Bookmen like you are horrified by the fact that something like this has been left out of Order history, right? It has been kept from everyone, even those within the Order. That Walker did something your order thought was wrong." The Earl explained needlessly. "He was tried and sentenced to death."

But of course. For a crime that the Bookman was not aware of, that had been committed a decade ago, and contradictorily was probably one that little noticed, giving how he remembered that nobody was fully acquainted with the reasons of trial and persecution and sentencing.

Even more, it was sacrilege to cover up a scandal of such proportions, since no matter how shaming it was to the order it would only be even more cowardly to try to conceal it.

"Technically speaking, the trial shouldn't have taken place because the reasons for accusing the defendant and even the entire nature of the ….._transgression_….were not stated in the court.

"It's your order What do you expect? Do you agree with me? They're a filthy rabble, the lot of them. ♥ "

"_It doesn't matter whether he's right or not-The peanut gallery rabble up there won't let anything happen to the reputation of the order, and they'll go after him because he's the only one standing up against them. One person's easy to take down." _Cross had said, although by now due to such a long period of thinking the bookman was doubtful of memory even as a second resource.

"Was Walker in the right?" The Bookman regretted that question as soon as it had been voiced, since the Earl suddenly had a wicked glint that forbade no good will in his beady eyes. "And the peanut gall-no, the Order's higher ups- convicted him on purpose for something that….they were trying to hide?"

"I can't say! ♥" The Earl sang, apparently taking immense glee and pleasure. "your Order's evil."

"…"

"You know that in the past ten years, the power of the Evil Order has been increased manifold, under the guise of exterminating my beloved little akuma." The Earl gave a fake, injured sniff.

It was all true, and while the Bookman was an exorcist he as a Bookman was not blind to the ways that such inconsistency in priorities of the Order had become apparent. "The tithes, the free quartering of exorcists when they are traveling…"

"Yes, yes, and there's more. Mana-"

"Was he one of you?" The Bookman said in a hard voice, recognizing the first-name basis to be representative of a connection between the former scientist and the criminal mastermind. "Answer me this."

"….A Noah?" The Earl sighed. "he wasn't one of ours, though. Unfortunately." He eyed Bookman almost predatorily, cold black glass-button eyes roving like something emerging out of the night. "He could have been though. He should have been. But he just simply wasn't but in the end he wasn't your Order's anyhow, so that's alright. ♥"

Again, it was as if questions went around and around in circles.

"So what was he?"

"A human being ♥. Foolish in thinking that he could make a difference and that he could stand as a single person against your Order's executives. Your Order is cruel, and it nearly killed him for it. He escaped death then, since he broke free from prison."

"Escaped…"

"One of the Order's own aided him- I believe it was Cross-Chanso mean how he calls me fatty every time."

"General Cross…." The Bookman tucked the snippet of information away in his mind for later reviewing, since he was unaware that the Earl was an acquaintance of Cross's, and a somewhat familiar one at that considering how he used the endearing diminutive and Cross seemed to be in contact with him long enough to insult him every time. "...Wait, Cross?"

Perhaps what he was delving in was better left alone, if even the elusive and secretive General Marian Cross was caught in the entire mess.

Cross suddenly leaving the courtroom, Cross being angry about the fixed trial, and Cross never returning to the Tower Headquarters after he left. And then finally, Cross and Allen. Such an eerie jigsaw with so many jagged pieces that didn't fit together, but the final shape had already taken manifest before the Bookman's eyes, the grim shadows of its contours telling him more than the Earl ever could.

"Cross, was it…" The Bookman exhaled slowly, thinking of the way the elusive flirt always refused to divulge information of any sort, if he was even around to begin with. It was like pulling teeth. Maverick that he was, Cross would actually have possessed the guts and arrogance to pull off such an insane stunt.

"One and the same- your Order hates him, and he knows it. That's why he doesn't go home, ha. But they need him because he's a general."

"So that is why…."

"And then there's Walker's toagachi project. Your Order is worse, I myself only make akuma, not fake exorcists- fake apostles of a falser god. And then there's Rakuen. ♥"

"…Rakuen." The Bookman mentally groaned. All roads seemed to lead back into Rome.

"What a lovely, interesting tale, is it!" The Earl said jovially. "Now, what do you say to joining me in unraveling this mystery together?"

_He took the apple and bit_.

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Tyki's strangely difficult to write- or rather, a Tyki struggling with human identity could be ooc. the Earl also pretty much gave me a writing block. After this chapter, I'll be changing the spelling of Tyki to Ticky and Rabi to Lavi- I didn't realise it bothered some people about the spellings of the names.

BTW, on a completely different note, is anyone willing to beta a college application essay of mine? I need someone to look over my apparently atrocious sentence structure, and I've never been good with things that aren't fiction.


	41. Temper

Disclaimer: I do not own d. gray man.

A/N: What can I say? Some manga spoilers- very little, about Cross Marian's weapon. I've really diverged from the manga but I might include some new characters from the latest chapters...since from what I've seen so far they seem to look as if they fit in very nicely with this fic's plot.

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ch. 41

Temper

Kanda pov:

Well, fuck. If the math was done all they needed was the Millennium Earl making a grand appearance.

(He hated math. Not that that particular fact was relevant at all- Kanda was not one to care for anything irrelevant- but he could not help but dwell sullenly on just how they had managed to get into such a predicament. )

Kanda, in a foul mood, nearly wished for that to happen, if only if it meant that he would have an opponent to fight. The entire mass of faceless entities, all citizens of Vienna, commoners who he couldn't soundly_thrash_- the fact that it would be imprudent to hurt them and get them to shut and leave without making a scene was slowly eating away at his sanity.

Vienna needed more power behind its forces, and although he had always viewed the support staff with a princely disdain, they were generally much better equipped both mentally and emotionally to deal with regular human civilians. Finders, since they never possessed the abilities of innocence, were better acquainted than most with just what damage akuma were able to conduct upon normal human beings.

With their sort of horrible luck, Lavi had been sure that sooner or later the blobby white marshmallow would grace them with his fat presence, and if Crowley had not arrived an hour ago he probably would not be able to catch the last train.

Their sort of luck was remarkable (even by Lavi's standards) and while he as an educated man believed that superstition was only an artifact embedded from days of yore in human culture, Kanda had a healthy if grudging respect for it.

However, making do with merely two people was if not impossible, at the very least close to superhuman. It was ridiculous when considering that both of them had bided the night out, and thusly were in less than prime condition.

The sounding of the violin was as if the gates of hell had opened; His own innocence, thrumming along in time and synchronization with the sound waves.

"Kanda."

"What?!" The swordsman whirled upon his companion.

"…Something's wrong. There are no akuma about here yet." Unusually calm, Lavi pocketed the eyeglass-thing of Komui's that he had been scanning the area with. "Normally they'd be all hangin' around the vicinity, ready to kill to their bleeding little hearts' delight- I do wonder if it all corresponds to the fact that the order's fallen. No doubt the Earl would take such a prime chance to zero in on the rest of the scattered exorcists around the world."

Lavi had always been a strange individual given to fits of intellectual superiority over the rest of the exorcists, even Rinali who had excelled academically under the tutelage of Order scholars. As loud and obnoxious he was sometimes, this was somewhat interesting in how low-key he actually was about his rather impressive scholarly exploits as Bookman apprentice.

But of course, such a quality was to be expected from a Bookman, especially giving Lavi's exceptional memory- history wouldn't otherwise be entrusted to someone like him, and even then Kanda was not entirely sure that his longtime acquaintance had the responsible manner to carry all his knowledge off with either.

Unlike Allen, Lavi's outlook was neither vulgarly, so obscenely naïve that it was an affronting offense to any self-respecting exorcist; Kanda had always kept in the back of his mind that the redhead's priorities were different and by all means the fate of humanity should not concern him in the very slightest, if only to prevent him from taking sides.

However, historical archiving and observing was an area which required much interacting with people, which could have eventually led to the inability for the very much exuberant Lavi to separate his attachment to those whom he was in contact with. Long amounts of contact bred tolerance and then, even affection- but only for people like Lavi.

Never Kanda. He would never fall to that, but such a rabidly enthusiastic person like Lavi would fiercely refuse to be ripped away from what he cherished.

Lavi's roguish grin and easy manner which made him easily accessible and thusly- as the Japanese exorcist would only grudgingly admit, and even then never to his friend's face- one of the more promising Bookmen who understood people in depth.

Lavi's duty was different from the rest of them, but it had always been something that Kanda had taken passing notice of, if he ever had in the first place. But since their arrival in Vienna, Lavi had become somewhat withdrawn and his single green eye roamed their surroundings ceaselessly, almost frantically, as if he were looking for something. And then there was his actually shedding tears over the death of people- he was much tougher than many even believed him to be, and even then their perceptions of him was almost overblown seeing how formidable an exorcist he was.

And then, although somewhat infrequently, the Japanese exorcist had seen the slightest traces of reluctance as he battled, as if he were seeing something with that single eye that everyone else was unable to see.

But Lavi, spontaneous and unconventional as he was, often came to conclusions in twice the speed others did, as he did now- Kanda was always one to question his judgment, but even he did not doubt that the reasoning was usually solid. Like it was for the most part now.

"Kanda, let me handle this. You go back inside the church and stay with Allen and that lil' kid. Something's not right- the akuma by all means should have already attacked us or the townspeople-"

The redhead's voice was strangely abrupt and strained, causing the normally unflappable Kanda to shoot him a hard glare, that and the fact that there was none of the usual 'Yuu-chan' address that Lavi usually reserved for him.

"What do you think?" He asked plainly, entirely annoyed that someone who _proclaimed_himself his _nakama_ was keeping something from him. Lavi could very easily take care of himself, since his far-reaching ability was fairly competitive against the akuma, which usually gathered in clusters that would make it even easier for elemental seals to destroy.

"I'm thinkin' that something's wrong. What if they're after Allen? And that little kid's a potential exorcist who isn't trained- parasitic or not, no new accommodator could easily gain control over his abilities. Allen can't protect anyone either in his state- leveled up weapon or not, no matter how strong- and we have no idea just how good it is- I don't think it can be used anytime soon. And don't you think it's a little coincidental- one of our exorcists is down, our reinforcement isn't here yet."

Crowley was normally a very punctual man, something that was reinforced because he was a stickler for authority and rules and missions, the sort of whatnot imposed on them for higher-ups that had usually had Kanda chafing and Lavi complaining and Linali biting her lower lip but doing whatever her beloved nii-san had her doing.

"…" Perhaps Crowley's train broke down or something along the lines to that effect, considering how he was usually a magnet for ill fortune, but Kanda refused to voice anything that would admit to Lavi that he could be right.

Left unsaid by Lavi was the fact that Allen was a precious commodity that, if lost, would prove a great blow to the entire infrastructure of the exorcists' order. There was also the strange occurrence of the first time an exorcist was able to wield dark matter, something that would have to be left to Komui and the science department to investigate. But what it at the moment entailed for the destroyer of time.

"Lavi, the headquarters has fallen." He said, cold and terse and short as possible and not liking at all how it was that an untried, unproven younger boy of too much mettle and conviction and little strength took precedence over everyone else. "The Earl will strike when the iron is still hot. It isn't odd for such a horde of akuma to appear here now."

"Look here, Yuu. I know you absolutely hate the kid's guts and hate the way how he's suddenly got this weapon power-up thing-

Kanda nearly choked on his indignation; It just seemed that he found more reasons to dislike the younger exorcist every single day, from him being an annoying bastard and akuma-creator to being too delicate and pretty for a boy. "I do not-"

"-but you put up with him anyway. You can do that for a little longer, can't you-look at the bigger picture."

Both their heads swiveled as there was a resounding crash from above, a large bulbous akuma with a doll's form and a swollen, distended belly pelting itself into the roof of the Stephansdom, into the highest point where the two of them had just been standing a mere hour before, pondering on the best ways to appease an angry mob.

"Shit." Despite all his stated harsh opinion of the Beansprout, Kanda, with all the agility of his cultivated reflexes, turned and found himself speeding in the general direction of the chapel. He remembered just in time that they had dead-bolted and barred the twin doors leading within the church themselves, with large thick wooden and metal bolts made out of entire trunks of trees and a core of steel that had taken the three of them, even Allen with his claw, to lift. And of course, it could only be removed from the inside.

In hindsight, their dramatic entry unto the battlefield had been less than prudent, and they had anyways lost all the momentum that came from a powerful entrance jumping from some high elevation. Shutting themselves out was somewhat laughable.

It had displayed intimidating skill and power, but it was also one of the more stupid things that Kanda would admit to ever doing, apart from stealing a keg of beer and getting piss-drunk with Lavi. (It was with a sense of de javu that he recalled how the redhead seemed to call out the recklessness in him.) Of course, he could not help but remember that he had descended from such a height from the top of the Order Tower to attack the Beansprout that first night they met.

If Lavi brought forth the recklessness in him, as disgraceful as it was, Allen was able to bring out the very best and the very worst in him- both his hottest fighting spirit and his most fiery anger and the most confused of emotions. Emotions that came too close to softness, as he had never exactly had the need to feel anything before, and he certainly was not going to begin doing so. But now, it all wavered between contempt and apathy and a grudging tolerance.

Kanda took a running sprint, and did not stop until one foot made contact with the wall, the other following and using the extra leverage and friction experienced there to propel him to a relative height into the air so that he could grab hold of a ledge of one of the higher windows.

With relative ease, he swung himself up onto it. Smashed the wood window frame in with the tip of mugen's saya, just where he saw the weak and rusting hinges would easily give, and eased the rest of it open inwards with the heel of his boot.

A mosaic tile from the ledge came free, and he quickly plucked it up before it fell a story below and tossed it inside the now-opened window, where it smashed on the floor. Contrary to what he believed, there was no soft altar cloth carpet underneath to catch it and he had calculated his general position wrong and thusly had ended up breaking into a different chapel than intended.

Church property was to remain intact, as he and his paycheck had discovered from the last little stunt he, Allen, and Linali had pulled with that last church they had been sent to exorcise. It had been sorely depleted by far, even with Lavi helpfully chipping in to help them.

They hadn't finished paying off the damage to the collapsed roof yet, and the debt was equally divided among the three of them despite the fact that one, the roof had fallen on Linali, and two, Allen's cross grave had committed the most damage.

Too many just turned a blind eye to Allen Walker- even more had little idea that said proclaimed prophesized exorcist had the darkness within him to create an akuma with his own selfish desires.

Quickly, the exorcist jumped in, taking in with a grimace that the steep roof, held up by wooden bracing that most likely took an entire forest to build, looked unstable from the inside. He could hear the soft groaning of the splintering wood that would no doubt give way soon if that fat accursed akuma didn't get off its large behind- and that was saying only if the ceiling hadn't already been decimated.

As it was, he had landed inside St. Katherine's baptismal chapel in the base of the south tower, and the two brats he was supposed to protect at the moment were in a completely tower, that would probably take five minutes to reach even if he ran his fastest.

An explosion outside, and then many of them, took his attention for all of five seconds, and he heard no sound of Lavi's telltale fire-seal activating. Lavi had a habit of screaming ban-ban-ban, grow-grow-grow every single time his hammer was extended. However, his one-track mind immediately turned him back to his present task and before he knew it, Kanda was already running in the direction of the lounge Allen was in.

He did not know what it was- or rather, Kanda was unfamiliar with what it was, but he knew how it would be generally defined. An icy grip, almost apprehensive, clutching around his heart and making it beat strange and erratic; That in itself was strange since his body was so well conditioned and trained that very little was able to make him break a sweat and his normal rhythm of heartbeat.

And it was not as if he had exerted himself yet, either, which only added to his puzzlement, and in consequence, a growing sense of anger for having to be put through such trouble.

His sense of caution and danger increased tenfold once he realized that the akuma had crashed very near the proximity of Allen's room, and that for once, Lavi was right, and that the damned Beansprout was a nitwit for always being targeted like that and causing trouble for everyone else.

So thusly, Yuu Kanda was unprepared and shocked to find when he threw open the door a great hole in the ceiling and Allen Walker still sleeping on the couch, alive and as well as one could be when sick, as if he had never noticed anything to begin with. The urge to gnash his teeth in frustration went duly unnoticed, replaced by a most curious mixture of both relief and vexation.

Allen Walker- how trying. The kid was still in one piece. Kanda was not quite sure how he felt about that.

Allen Walker and Edmund, who seemed unperturbed by the sudden increase of people.

Allen Walker and Edmund and a rather disheveled-looking Linali Li, wringing her hands because of the unconventional way they had gotten inside the church- by air and right through the roof

Allen Walker and Edmund and Linali Li and two generals, both sitting and occupied in leisurely fashions of smoking (in the case of the redhaired one) and drawing (as the old fool was doing).

Allen Walker and Edmund and Linali Li and two generals and a _fat akuma_ which, as he could see through the great hole in the ceiling, was currently firing on its fellow akuma.

Almost accusingly, he turned to general #2, the normally obscure and mysterious general Cross, who had reputed to have possessed the ability to convert akuma, and who was presently smoking a cigar and liberally poking his disciple.

"Oi. Baka deshi. What's wrong with you?" The man muttered, nearly drawled, through teeth that were clenched around a pipe that was spewing foul, copious amounts of tobacco smoke. A tin of snuff was in his lap- a habit of double dose of body abuse for the redheaded general.

The idiot- Kanda agreed wholeheartedly- disciple was still dead to the world, and totally unaware of such an esteemed party of exorcists that he was in.

"Master Tiedeur…" Kanda stated, none too pleased, turning to the first general he had immediately spotted as he sheathed his katana.

His own master-more decrepit and stooped than he remembered-who did not seem surprised in the slightest, gave him a lethargic wave from where he was sitting on a suitcase and already sketching what appeared to be a figure study of Allen's disfigured arm. His pencil squeaked irritatingly as he crosshatched the shadows on the embedded cross in with careful, full-hand strokes that moved his entire arm. Kanda resisted the urge to snap the utensil in many small pieces, if only to relieve his own annoyance at such an infernal sound.

"Ah, Yuu-kun. So nice of you to join us. We came early- the train was too slow and halfways through Marian here wanted to catch an akuma. By the way, lovely General Cloud Nine is going to aid your redheaded friend outside, so you need not worry about him." Tiedeur said kindly, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose.

Out of grudging respect to a man who had patiently trained him and nearly raised him, Kanda forced himself to bite back a snappish remark about how a woman fighting alongside the normally hormonal Lavi would be a greater danger to the redhead than any akuma, because then there would be hearts floating around inside his head and nothing else. Lavi tended to do stupider things than usual when in female company, out of the inane desire to impress in fashions that Kanda found entirely….ineffectual and stupid.

He could nearly cringe and imagine the eventual "striiike!" But of course, Kanda would not do something so pedestrian as cringing, although at times being in Lavi's presence was embarrassing.

"Kanda!" Linali leapt to her feet, eyes shining glassily and wetly with relief, eyes like burning dark pits of rubble- devastated. "The order headquarters-"

"I know. Toma contacted me by golem." He said curtly, noting offhandedly how peculiar it was that she was not fawning over her crush and instead appearing as if she was keeping a distance. Normally he would never deign to pick up on such a slight detail that was unworthy of his attention, but lately it had become more and more obvious that even he couldn't miss just how she looked at Allen. It was not good- she was distracted even more than usual.

"Nii-san's coming here, too- he said that the Stephansdom could be the new temporary place for his base after he relocates his staff."

A tic appeared upon the young swordsman's forehead, pulsing erratically and foreboding yet another one of his rages. "Why. Was. I. Not. Informed. Of. This."

Preferably informed well in advance, so that he could avoid that senile dolt of a master he had, as well as Komui, who would insist on them making their reports together, not to mention actually writing up a typed draft.

"It's not as if I wanted to come here to this blasted place anyway." Cross snarled at him, giving Allen a hard prod in the shoulder and apparently giving up in rousing any reaction whatsoever. "And do you know what's wrong with this filthy bratty apprentice of mine? He's not waking up."

Cross's rich baritone was terribly cross (no pun intended on Kanda's part) and contained a faint smoky trace of a slight New York accent, of dark alleyways and

Strangely, Kanda felt a sense of relief- at the very least, Cross seemed to be a kindred spirit who possessed the slightest scrap of human annoyance about the entire situation. "He's ill."

"As if _that_ needed to be said; I could see that, of course- Tiedeur, are all your kids all as damned _thick _as this one?" The redheaded general turned and barked at his master, who looked up from his drawing with a serene, vague smile that indicated that his mind was floating around in an art-induced la-la land, and not at all upon the present situation, which would call for a little bit of responsibility.

"Oi, _teme_-"

"No, Yuu-kun's just surprised, that's all." Said senile dolt returned easily and serenely. "He's a very good boy. Ma-kun had the best academic credentials of them all, though."

It was unnecessary and Kanda could already envision what would occur in five minutes: his doddering elderly master would recount fondly, with sentimental tears in his wrinkled old eyes, how Kanda had never got how to add fractions and probably still had no idea how. Kanda bristled, his thumb already pressuring the tsuba of Mugen, ready to draw live steel and blood.

If Komui had a sister-complex, Tiedeur had a son-complex that usually entailed of him calling his wards silly affectionate names and overall trying to act like some horrific imitation of a paternal figure. And then there were the works of art every Christmas, the lumpy and shapeless but admittedly warm hand-knit cardigans that always appeared under the tree for him each year...

"….Kanda…." Linali warned softly under her breath, her tone whisper-light and almost reproaching. "Please, don't. No more fighting. Not among us- we can't."

Kanda could nearly see past that voice she used, nearly feel the underlying strength of emotion that ran like a current- if it were tangible, it would be been fragile and glasslike, delicately hovering on the border of breakage.

Upon the surface of his mind, he thought that he didn't particularly care to know what happened to her over the duration of the time when she was at the Order, but apparently it looked nearly enough to break her and he was concerned over that. Her face, thin and haggard and whiter than the waxing moon, appeared to be drawn and weary and exhaustion had etched its mark unto her mouth, the corners of which were turned sadly down.

"Well, as long as it's not anything that that infernal sis-con can't fix, everything's fine." Cross said, resulting in a nervous squawk from Linali, who colored and hung her head. "But most of all, can you explain _that_?"

He pointed a finger at Edmund, who had seemed to by now climbed up and had made himself at home on Tiedeur's lap and was prattling softly away while the old general listened with apparent delight. "That Allen picked him up, didn't he? Soft-hearted bastard."

"He's compatible." Kanda said succinctly, purposely leaving him to believe that it was his idiot disciple, ignoring the fact that the kid had practically came and adopted him. "His mother was killed a day or two ago."

"Parasitic or equipment type?"

"…how would I know? He can locate innocence in his vicinity, and can track him down by sight." As far as he believed, that was. It was still unclear if the child would exhibit any other innocence-caused behavior, such as tracking down innocence from further distances other than sight alone.

"One more exorcist discovered, as it may seem." Tiedeur said, allowing the child to scribble on a spare sheet of paper while he himself continued to draw. The boy pressed too hard, and to Kanda's great if petty satisfaction he heard the lead of a pencil snap.

"We'll have to have Hevlaska examine him and my brother subject him to a test then." Rinali said then, noncommittally, as she stared at the young boy with unusually darkened and somber eyes.

The observation that Edmund looked like Allen that Kanda had expected her to voice did not come. In fact, it was strange that she had not approached Allen already as it was, but Kanda placed that far out of mind.

The Japanese exorcist watched Cross; The elder man was fiddling with something near Allen's collar, and he spotted something with a metallic glint disappearing discreetly into the general's gloved grasp. However, it was none of his business though.

Cross tucked whatever it was that he found inside his distastefully ruffled sleeve, and abruptly left the room. Kanda quickly followed, more out of the excuse that he should be getting back to Lavi, and silently followed the general as he walked on, thankfully in the direction of the great bolted doors.

"Well, boy, why are you following me?" Cross muttered, abruptly turning around to face him.

"I'm going outside- and it's none of my business whether you run off or not." Kanda said sardonically, as much as he knew that the man was his superior.

A corner of Cross's mouth twitched in laughter. "Hmm, I like your attitude- now I know why my little brat Allen thinks you're such a jerk." He only said easily, taking his hand out of his pocket to reveal, in what little light there was, a crumbled mass of what appeared to be ceramic.

"…"

"But then again, he thinks that I'm a slacking, perverse man-slut who whores around indiscreetly, so he can't be too far off the mark. I like my women."

Kanda had never known that the general could be so self-deprecatory, especially when confronted with his overbearing presence it was unnerving to think that the man actually had a sense of humor somewhere under those exorcist general trimmings.

The general rattled the scraps in his palm, and curled his fingers up again; When they again once retracted, a very disgruntled-looking Timcanpi, who fluttered its wings twice experimentally, as if to test its regenerated form and flew up to Cross's shoulder.Kanda stared unabashedly; He had thought that Allen and Timcanpi were a most disgustingly touchy-feely duo indeed, what with the former always petting the latter's head, and the latter always trying to protect the former by ineffectually baring its teeth at anybody who transgressed on personal space and came a bit too close. However, never once did he see a golem all but cuddling up to a grown man, who was absentmindedly withstanding its affections.

"Ah, Tim, you've gotten bigger by a few millimeters. Not much, but at the very least you're not morbidly obese like that fatty. Who broke you? Not Allen, right?" The general said lazily, although his half-lidded eyes glinted two savage slits of gold under his tawny eyelashes.

Timcanpi shook its head, and fluttered up to Cross's eye level, its tiny little arms waving in some strange sort of communication that Kanda could not comprehend. A holographic image was projected as it opened its little mouth, that of dark eyes, mocha skin, and millions of butterflies.

"That man…Tyki Mick." Kanda snarled, recalling a game of cards that could have ended badly.

Cross frowned. "He was here?"

"On the train here- it appeared that he was also bound for Vienna."

Timcanpi gave Cross a soft whap on the nose to get his attention. "Timcanpi says that he dropped Allen a 'calling card.' It appeared as if Rhode was around as well." Cross translated, an iris flickering swiftly over the next image of said Noah. "Rhode was the one who destroyed the headquarters- they certainly do move fast, those damned Noah."

"Rhode moves using dimensions and time warps, idiot." Cross added, snorting softly at his hostilely questioning look. "God, what did Tiedeur teach you? Oh, nothing, that's right."

"Che-I knew that." The master was just as infuriating as the student, Kanda thought, as he gnashed his teeth. Only that the Beansprout did not possess the same cutting wit and tongue, thankfully, but his innocent naïveté and dogged determination was nearly enough to put the reserved Kanda off his soba in a way that was worse than any of Cross's verbal assaults.

"Allen, that dimwit, at the very least has a rudimentary education." Cross sighed, and perhaps it had been just him, but Kanda heard a slight tone of mocking.

"Of how to pick up loose women, of course." He sneered back, now uncaring of Cross's higher status as general and the fact that he was blatantly insulting the other exorcist's questionable habits, so as to put it.

"Hmmm….not that. He just hangs around alleys outside of brothels to swindle filthy-rich people out of their money. Although Allen _does_ know much more about the secrets of the female body then you will ever- ask him to teach you someday, how about that?"

An infuriating smirk of Cross's to accompany that crude suggestion, speaking of inside jokes and threatening him not to dig himself into a deeper hole than he had gotten himself into.

A growl deep in his throat, Kanda stormed off back to the room, back to where Allen was.

"Don't bother to go get your Bookman friend- Nine will take care of the mob outside and she'll watch out for him. Get some rest." Cross called at him from behind, still standing in the shadowy corridor with Timcanpi at his side.

Kanda snorted. That had not been an order and thusly he had no reason to follow it- rank could only go so much in his eyes.

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It was fun while it lasted, and baiting a high-strung young man whose arrogance could stand to be taken down a notch or two was nearly as fun as depriving Allen of food and watching her whine. But not quite so much as fighting the Earl.

Cross chuckled as the young man stalked off in high dudgeon, his pose rigid and uncompromising. "I guess I was a bit too forward, eh- although I was only saying the truth." He remarked to Timcanpi, which was shaking its little head disapprovingly in a fashion that was reminiscent of how Allen did it when in a huff. "And it's not as if anyone knows that Allen's a girl-eh?"

The self-sentient golem gave a little, nearly indistinguishable shrug and projected yet another image that gave off its own dulled and inconsistent light in the half-darkness. The general's eyebrows furrowed once he recognized the rather indistinct rotund figure of the Millennium Earl, accompanied by several other blobs that apparent were supposed to symbolize the rest of his cronies.

"So they finally found out, haven't they." Cross said, squinting at the Earl-image and then swiping at it to dispel the hologram. "Timcanpi, did Allen-?"

The faithful golem shook its head vigorously, nearly knocking itself out of the air.

"So Allen was careful- glad to know that that wench actually did something right for once." Cross mumbled. "Although there isn't any other damned son of a gun I could think of at a moment who can probably know about it other than Mana Walker. Since my idiot disciple will probably prefer suicide to admitting to subterfuge, though. Tight-lipped gambling cheat to the core. Eh, what's that?"

Timcanpi swept around his head in little circles. "Oh. That. Yes, it's necessary for the deception to go on. Now that he knows, she can't hide from the Earl anymore, but there's other people I'd say are scarier than the Earl. Keep your enemies closer and all that bullshit. She doesn't know why, though- now I think it's only her pride and fear of losing her comrades that keeps her from owning up. In other words, her friends all come first, and that is not good."

Of course it was not good- contrary to whatever the exorcists' order brainwashed their innocent little exorcist-wannabe kids into believing, a healthy sense of compassion was not quite necessary to be a good exorcist, living proof from yours truly. In fact, too much compassion and love and all those weird squishy warm emotions that bubbled up in a cozy way inside one's stomach: they had the potential to turn into darkness, and akuma were born out of them.

Cross removed from his sleeve a long, dangling piece of jewelry, something that he had discovered lying just underneath Allen's collar, its discreet presence and way she had hidden it causing suspicion.

"…A locket." He mused, eyeing the design before narrowing in on what he had been scrutinizing it for: it was a fine work of filigree, a masterpiece in how the family crest only revealed itself to the eye of a very keen observer- and Cross had very keen eyes indeed, accustomed to absorbing details.

The delicate, intricate design etched on the surface of the metal was of flowers and some sort of pansy whatnot, leading him to surmise that it was meant for a woman to wear, but in reality the design was not to decorate. Its true purpose was to conceal the emblazoned crest that hid alongside curling leaves and petals, an insignia of nobility.

Cross gave it a cursory examination- above the Latin family motto, it resembled a lump that blended in with the floral pattern. A ferret or something- that much he was able to make out. Timcanpi begged to differ, transmitting an image of a salamander from its mouth.

It did not matter what half-assed symbol-thing that the proud nobility slapped on their stuff; It was the fact that it was familiar to Cross's keen eye that made it all the more significant.

Familiar, the same as everything else that he had experienced in the past year or so, reeking of smoke-filled studies and lounges and laughing women in silk dresses and gentlemen trying to outdo each other in raising the stakes; of cards and horses.

And then dice, Cross's specialty, dice that froze in sweaty palms as his Maria suspended them in the minds of those well-bred cheaters and forced them to toss a hand that landed in his favor. And then, those cheaters would bemoan in private how they tossed the wrong weighted dice.

England was not far from Vienna, being on the same continent anyhow, he mused.

His eyes cut to his golem, bobbing anxiously near his ear. "Timcanpi. Show me everything since you left Vienna."

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I've been itching to write Cross-Everybody interaction since I read the latest manga chapters. And finally I can get rid of a subplot for now since he and Rinali and the rest of the generals have joined Allen & co., and Komui will as well soon. All this switching povs in different places is honestly annoying, no doubt as much for the readers as it is for me.


	42. You have Been Loved

Insert usual disclaimer.

A/N: It's been a long time since I've updated...this one's heavy on the Cross and Allen interaction. 'Nuff said, here's the chapter.

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Ch. 42

You Have Been Loved

Kanda stopped in front of the door. And then remembered that by all means he should be elsewhere doing what he did best, which entailed carving up akuma. After the minute interaction with the infuriating Cross-who really was all that much of a bastard that Allen thought he was, Kanda was loathe to agree-he needed some heavy training. There was no simulation like the real thing, and he glanced outside where Lavi's fire seal lit up the sky.

In addition, a sickbay, being such a domestic place, was no place where he would feel comfortable, and least of all a place with the Beansprout. Rinali would be more than necessary to said British brat and he was no longer needed. Casting a foul-tempered glance at the door (or rather the occupant of the room within), which had done nothing to offend him, he left.

Cross smiled.

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Talking. Words that were lost to her in her dream state.

"_Father?"_

_A soft smile, a little awkward pat on the head by a large palm that dwarfed hers- he wasn't the affectionate sort of parent who indulged his child with endless affections. Of course, it made any physical contact with him rare and even more precious, especially since he worked as an expatriate, a scientist out of his home country of England. _

"Oi. Baka deshi. What's wrong with you?"

"Master Tiedeur…"

"Ah, Yuu. So nice of you to join us. By the way, lovely General Cloud Nine is going to aid your redheaded friend outside, so you need not worry about him."

_The way he sat her on his shoulders, and protectively nudged her to the inside of the sidewalk when they were walking on the street, to provide a human barrier shielding her from the smoke-spewing automobiles that sometimes drove a little too close for comfort .The way that he had shielded her from the combusting concoction of potassium and water, sacrificing his right hand not to be used for a good month because of all the burns. The pleasant hum of his vocal cords as he added his tenor to her childish soprano in singing nonsensical lyrics, and the way she could touch his throat when he sang and feel his Adam's apple bob in synchrony had always made her giggle. _

"It's not as if I wanted to come here to this blasted place anyway. And do you know what's wrong with this filthy bratty apprentice of mine? He's not waking up."

"He's ill."

_If she were to choose an idyllic life, she would have ran away from destiny. Preposterous as it was to believe that something could be predefined and meant to happen even before one even existed, there was no backing away from a path she had set herself on._

_It would have been her spring had her will been a little weaker; Had she not been standing silent and miserable sentry at her father's grave, had she just planted flowers there to bloom every year, and then had left to seek her own life, perhaps it would have been not the same. _

"As if _that_ needed to be said; I could see that, of course- Tiedeur, are all your kids all as damned _thick _as this one?"

_There would never would have been a winter in her life, but perhaps eternal spring and summer until her sins dragged her down into the circles of hell; Then she knew she would have no way to confront them, and as an exorcist she could have. _

_She could have been many things other than an exorcist: The street could have transformed her into a scarlet lady of the night haunting lonely beds and five mechanically passionate minutes in a deserted alleyway; She could have eventually learned to swindle her way into silk dresses and gold-filled purses and a wealthy stolen lifestyle; the innocence in her accursed disfigured claw of a hand may have been her fortune as well as her bane, in attracting akuma that would have slaughtered her; Less dubious potential futures could have consisted of just as miserable outcomes. _

"Oi, _teme_-"

"No, Yuu's just surprised, that's all."

_Perhaps of all her futures she chose the most miserable and hardest and saddest of all, in being an avenger of a past that was, and a future that could have been. Avenging a father, a selfish choice gone wrong, a warm home, and most of all her place in the world as daddy's little girl-She'd be content just being that._

"….Kanda…. Please, don't. No more fighting. Not among ourselves- we can't."

"Well, as long as it's not anything that that infernal sis-con can't fix, everything's fine."

_To be loved by someone and anyone else again was unnecessary. What was, though, was impossible. Erase that night and the thousand nights that pursued it. And take back her life. _

You have been loved-i_f only she could have remembered that and what it had meant to her._

_But no, she could never go on like that. _

_She wouldn't let herself._

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Slivers of light, wet and obscure and dim, only small twin cuts in between the dark shadow-fall of her eyelashes. Then, out of the night and into the gray dawn that peeped under the horizon of her eyelid to burn its image into her pupils, which were somewhat still dilated and weary.

"Aa…bloody hell it hurts…" Allen mumbled, weakly flinging her hand over her eyes and momentarily giving them some respite, before peeling her fingers away to squint uncomfortably at her surroundings.

The distinctively unpleasant and soft manner in which her brain seemed to slosh around in between her ears left a queasy feeling in the back of her throat and had her thinking twice about getting up. Or rather she did not think, but rather felt absolutely miserable.

It took several minutes for it all to sink in, to discover that for some very peculiar reason she was lying down on a couch and she had no idea just how her person had been bodily removed there from the corridor where she had felt so faint and weak. The last thing that she had seen was a disgruntled Kanda who seemed to be more interested in insulting her than anything else.

Of course, she must have been in a very bad state at the time if she couldn't recall just what he had said to her, but it must have been quite cutting if all she could remember was the hurt she had felt. Now that was not unfamiliar, although she was unable to remember this time just what infernal matter of little consequence she and Kanda had been arguing over.

Then again, it was the unfamiliarity of the situation that made her feel so vulnerable and ill, how absolutely strange and dangerous it was for her to be waking up in a strange place with no other recollections other than black silk falling through her fingers and an accursed moon that shone belligerently throughout her darkest dreams- if she would put it so poetically, even when she wanted nothing better than to close her eyes and drift off back into an unfeeling slumber where pain was only momentary and not real.

"….I don't know how long it has been, but I want an explanation for this, missy."

That soft, deceptively careless baritone voice that came from nearby as well as the comfortable, casual address had her eyes widening with terror and shock and relief, all at once. Missy- the way the diminutive nickname slipped out so easily with the familiarity of one long accustomed to it; That was what scared her witless, apart from the fact that she had just woken up and she was unaware of just how long someone had been there watching her sleep.

There could only be one other living person in the world who would say it like that- rolling so mockingly on his tongue and taking away all the affection and replacing it with something akin to a reprimand.

The exorcist watched on in fright as a large and ominous shadow suddenly cast itself over her vision, and she smelled the recognizable stench of tobacco and felt the all-too-familiar pain as he flicked her forehead.

Allen could not hold back a frightened meep as she saw red hair, a wide-brimmed hat, a cloud of smoke, and most of all a familiar little mallet of which she had seen the last of nearly two years ago when it was pounding itself into her head. The memories of paying off debts had attached themselves to image of her master, rendering her temporarily nauseous.

Cross was looking at her with something akin to amusement, his hat tipped over one of his eyes in a rakish fashion, and he looked to be in his prime womanizing self, well fed and his exorcist cloak ironed. He must have been with a woman at the very least, wherever he had went, since he had never quite managed to figure out how to wash and dry and press clothes as Allen had done everything around the house.

Allen blinked frantically, willing the mirage to just disappear. Begone, foul demon from the bowels of hell and all that whatnot…

The familiar flick of his fingers on her throbbing forehead brought her back to reality, convincing her that unfortunately it was not a fever-induced hallucination that was causing her to hear and see things.

He removed his hat, liberating some stray strands that were caught within, and she duly wondered for a slight fever-induced instant whether or not he still took the hot-curlers to his head to give his hair that unnaturally jaunty flip at the ends.

"You're a damned imbecile." Master Cross said simply, in lieu of any greeting whatsoever to an underling whom he hadn't seen for some time.

Allen flinched, forgetting hot curlers and wondering just what had transpired in the duration of time when she was unconscious that had caused him have such a scary look upon his face. It was even scarier than usual, she blandly thought, trying to get her brain to process something other than pure, undulated fear.

"I'm sorry…" She said petulantly, almost angry with herself that she had disappointed him.

Scary- his expression scared her.

"How do you feel?" Cross asked, without any trace of caring whatsoever, as if it were a normal thing for him to just suddenly spontaneously appear in front of her and actually doing what he was paid to do. "It's been a long time since I've seen you look this bad, and bullshit if nothing happened."

"Ah…About that…." Allen blinked, noting with a faint interest how he pronounced his words with a slight New York accent, which was strange considering that he must have settled for a fairly long time there to pick up on such a quality native to a region.

That in its self was unusual considering how she had never seen her matter stay in any place exceeding a few weeks, since his stays were always cut short because of the harassment of debt-collectors and vengeful ex-boyfriends. Allen warily threw a glance past him to the door, almost if expecting said problematic aggregation and culmination of all her master's misdeeds to come stampeding in.

For some reason she did not think that it was no mere courtesy visit if he had actually deigned to go so far as drag his lazy womanizing behind all the way to what the Black order deemed a war zone in need of reinforcements. Cross was no reinforcement- as a general, he would have no doubt been delegated to a higher role.

Timcanpi fluttered off its perch on her master's flawless and curling head of red hair and comfortingly nuzzled its hard little knob of a head against her cheek. Her skin still felt somewhat hot, and Tim's cold metal casing was a bit of a relief.

"Don't flatter yourself- I didn't come here to see _you_." Cross said coolly, in answer to her questioning gaze, removing his silk gloves and dropping them unceremoniously in his pocket. "Komui's orders, right after the tower fell. I had to reconnaissance the area and so I happened to be close."

It was as if Christmas had come early, its white flakes of snow cooling the earth and quenching her unease as her birthday neared and let her know that she had survived one more year. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her chest, just to be imbued with the knowledge that her friends were all and well.

And that nobody else close to her died- they had a bad tendency of doing that.

"Komui?-That means…that means they're fine. Thank God…" Allen whispered, releasing a breath that she hadn't realized that she had been holding.

"It would have been good damned riddance, but oh well. They're regrouping, the Order, damn them. Coming _here_. Don't know why that sis-con thinks it'd be any better here, though."

Allen begged to differ, all for the fact of the time-old and time-proven adage of safety in numbers as well as to promote cohesiveness, and therefore, a sense of morale. And _that _happened to be unreasonable coming from a man who had ordered his disciple to fetch a lion just because he wanted to see one?

Again with the prominent r-dropping, at the end of the words. "Were you investigating in New York?" She asked succinctly, sufficiently rejuvenated now that she was informed that her comrades were safe.

"Don't jump to conclusions. I need to have a little talk with you. Timcanpi has-"

"Tim!-Traitor." Allen mumbled softly, under her breath so that her master would not hear. Timcanpi butted playfully at her jaw, as if to protest at her accusation.

"-what was that you said?" Cross looked at her down his aristocratic nose.

"I'm sorry, nothing, sir." She said innocently.

"-Fine. Timcanpi has informed me that your identity is more or less known by the Noahs."

So of course. She hung her head, awaiting a slap or him putting out a cigarette on her hand or something of that caliber that warranted some sort of painful corporeal punishment. However, nothing came.

"It's none of my business, although it's in both of our best interests." Her master said coldly, sipping from a wineglass he had procured out of nowhere. "As long as you realize what danger you are in, however, I don't give a damn."

For some reason, that made her feel the slightest bit worse about herself- was even her master, who had despite his constant fooling-around gone to great lengths to take her in as a disciple, giving up on her?

"I know. Tyki Mick-" Allen swallowed, gestured hopelessly, her hands miming playing cards. "He was on the same train as us bound here, and he mentioned that he also was coming here as well."

"Aside from that, your cover has been blown."

"I don't know how…I was so careful…"

"Did I _ask_ you how, idiot disciple?" Cross sneered, blowing a puff of smoke a little too close, the stench of tobacco suddenly filling the air. "I don't care how, now that it has happened. What I also want to know is what happened to that _leech _of an appendage that you have."

Allen frowned at his emphasized derogatory usage of the word leech in context to her arm, before replying evenly, "Master, it may be a leech, but it is very important to me. You said it yourself-I have no other way in life but to be an exorcist. This weapon of mine is the only way I can keep on going."

Words of what seemed a century ago, but was only mere years away from the present. She could still recall the icy solidness of the gravestone braced behind her back, the feel of the cold wind that blew until he knelt down to her head level and informed her curtly of her options from then on.

"I wasn't insulting you, dimwit. That stupid Japanese swordsman you're partnered with can do that for me. He's quite the jackass." Ignoring Allen's snort of laughter at the none-too-flattering mention of Kanda, Cross gave a vague, curt gesture towards the arm in which her innocence resided, every motion impatient. "I watched Timcanpi's footage of your latest exploits on the battlefield-" A slight sardonic curl of the lip. "-and lo and behold. Congratulations."

"For what?"

"Meeting your birth mother, even if she died five minutes later. Finding your little brother-he bears quite a resemblance to you, doesn't he. Tiedoll seems to like him well enough. Getting a weapon like an akuma's- that's the strangest upgrade I have ever seen on a parasitic type." Cross said heavily, sitting down on the couch and forcing her to curl her feet up to make room for him. "I believe that as stupid as you are, there is a limit to how less common sense you possess, and that you have figured out that the condition of your arm has taken a…_unusual,_ so as to say, turn."

An unusual turn, to say it the best. It was as if her stomach and all the rest of her innards had frozen into ice; Her master had confirmed just what she had been fearing, the deep apprehension that had always lurked in the back corners of her mind, pushed there by her refusal to think about it, but it had always been there, always since that strange long strand of black light had been emitted from her weapon.

At first, she had thought that light wasn't black. Daylight and the light of the electric lamps were clear and bright and felt good on her face, until the makeup was melted off in gooey chunks because of heat.

Rabi had mentioned, only in passing and meant for Kanda to hear, that he- Bookman apprentice with a millennium's worth of knowledge in his eighteen-year old mind- had never before encountered an exorcist that was able to wield dark matter as well as innocence.

Dark matter- that was what akumas used, the antithesis to innocence.

Her arm, turning from its pure white to a cooled, soft-hued golden-red; Her knowing, not really knowing how, but just _knowing_ that if Kanda touched those strings he'd be hurt and thusly she'd actually warned him to keep away. Lavi looking on with wise Bookmen eyes that were too clever and sad in his honest, handsome face. She hadn't asked him anything afterwards, but the wariness that he regarded her when he thought she wasn't looking or when Kanda was somewhere else had made her feel lower than the basest akuma.

"Master…what's happening to me, then?" Allen asked, trying to keep that quavering note of desperation clear out of her voice, even as it hinged on the verge of despair. "Please tell me- surely you know something?"

Or rather, no: What was happening, more importantly than what was happening to her, to her _weapon_? That was all that mattered, in the very end to her- it was her weapon that everyone needed, and she needed it to keep on living.

"Please, master." She urged him, her human hand clutching protectively at her other innocence-embedded hand. "Tell me. This dark matter- it's not normal. I'm not normal."

"Be damned if I knew. But you've never been a normal exorcist to begin with."

Cross shrugged expansively as she visibly deflated, trying to keep her wits about her and to prevent that coiled-up, unpromising feeling of a threat from gaining control of her mind.

Allen fell silent, not knowing what to make of the fact that not even her master, who knew too many things for anything to just be coincidence, was knowledgeable of what was happening. She stared at his red hair with rapidly blurring eyes, that awful redness of it, with an immense concentration if only so that her eyes could not stray anywhere else, to see that monstrosity that was her innocence-holding hand.

It was just so awful. This turn in circumstances, the way she felt so utterly hopeless, with everything bared to the Noahs and the fact that she had very little idea of what was happening to her body. That akuma-like eye, and then the akuma-like attack.

"Master," Allen chose her words carefully, "Do you think the curse has…progressed?"

She heard him draw in a breath, and turn a scrutinizing gaze to her, combing over the cursed eye which Mana had bestowed upon her as his final act upon this earth. That one keen eye that seemed to penetrate easily through all her fears and laugh at them- she squirmed uncomfortably, never having been too trusting of him.

"I can't say." He finally said. "That would be up to you to determine, idiot disciple."

"Oh." It was only natural, she tried to tell herself, to feel so alone, especially when her curse had effectively set her apart from the rest of the human population. She saw things they could not see, and there was a curse that had made itself manifest within her body and seemed as if it was intent on also spreading to more than just her eye. She could not let it get to her weapon, nor could it take over her heart with all its beating determination.

Suddenly Cross dangled something before her eyes. The sight of the pendant that lent a sudden feeling of apprehension to her already confused state, and had her looking accusingly at him.

"Don't look at me with that face. You look like a damned girl when you pout like that." He reprimanded her. "You do realize that you need to reapply that damned _gunk_ of yours, don't you."

For one, she was not pouting, and it was a completely different matter when something of what was sentimental- yes, she'd admit that now that it was sentimental to her even as she tried so hard to deny her roots- had been taken away and handled carelessly by her careless slacker of a master.

Allen leant forward in a feeble attempt to snatch at the necklace that hung tauntingly just out of reach, nearly falling off the couch as he held it farther away. "Stop it, Master, give that back to me." She said with a rising sense of anger and anxiety, replaced by anguish. "Please…_damn_ you, you're not making this any easier for me!"

The last time she had swore at her master was a very long time ago, and it wasn't just out of frustration as it was embarrassment, but contrary to what she had thought he did not beat the crap out of her.

He sighed, and as far as she saw through rapidly blurring eyes, grudgingly relented; He reached forth and dropped it unceremoniously back into her grasp where it pooled reassuringly in her palms in a molten strand of delicate chain links. The locket she stroked protectively, clutched against her pounding heart- because it had been there all along, close to her, inasmuch as she wouldn't be willing to recognize a past that by all means should be dead to her.

"You shouldn't attach so much sentimental value to a mere _trinket_, you know. Idiot disciple, you never learn, do you? At the moment that thing is of little use to you since it embodies nothing but intangible feelings."

"I know where to step back, master. I know my…my…_limits_." She informed him stiffly, inasmuch as she was not inclined at all to admit to any limits whatsoever. Naming them was tantamount to actually recognizing them as impediments.

"Very well then, as you say. Than keep in mind who you are and what your purpose is. I'm sure you're already more than aware of the necessity not to become too secure- You should not die for your feelings, no more than you should die for your sole purpose in life." He replied nearly scathingly, almost reminiscent of a younger but no less opined exorcist with just as a tough manner.

She could not miss, no matter what, that twist in his voice, that hard turn that his deep voice dipped into when he emphasized the word 'sole.' None of the normal sultry edge that sheathed his tone in a silken smoothness, and with a hint of warning. Her master never had taken her training seriously before, and while he certainly had very little to begin of all times now, Allen could not help but feel that perhaps he had finally stepped up in his role as her teacher.

"…What feelings?" She asked.

"Don't give me that innocent wet-eyed look, you." Cross snorted softly. "You have a responsibility to fulfill that damned prophecy-thing that you're supposed to fulfill. Any other emotional obligations that you may possess are irrelevant."

He might as well have called her irrelevant.

She had the slightest feeling that he was being purposely vague, which was unusually gentle a way for him to express anything to her, if to overcompensate for taking her necklace away. "I know-I know that too well…"

She was still waiting for that hammer to smash into her skull.

"Good, then. Just a small reminder if it just so happened that you…_conveniently_ forgot it, destroyer of time."

Allen swallowed, her throat suddenly dry and not at all enjoying where this particular conversation was leading them. After all, there was reason for suspicion when her master actually acknowledged her as the destroyer of time to her face, especially since she was very much conscious of his less than approving stance upon her lack of experience and age.

"Tell me, how much do you hate the Noahs?" An abrupt note not unusual of her master, but she was glad for the distraction.

Allen considered this for some time, thinking of humans and white and black sides, those very thorns in her conscience that sank in and drew blood suddenly making their presence in multiplying their inflicted pain manifold.

"I…I don't know. I want to hate them. They took away everything- Crea and Leo and countless many. They've made a mockery of death- heaven can't be a final resting place anymore." She whispered, hanging her head. "I don't want to think that of my fellow human beings, but…I _hate_ them for not who they are, but what they stand for. But they make themselves so beloved to the world. Their akuma are so beloved by us."

Cross smiled. "If that is your _hate_, you are too naïve and pure-hearted. If that is your hate, I don't think you have any self-respect for your duty as exorcist. And I don't think that you can do anything."

That noncommittal response made her jerk her head up in both well-deserved temper and offense, wondering just how she had been so badly misconstrued.

"Anyone who helps them is our enemy-" She told him in cold and no uncertain terms. "-I can't forgive them for that, no matter how well they wish and no matter how the road to hell is paved with intentions for the best."

"Aah. So to you they're nothing but evil. But then to them, you are nothing but evil as well."

"That's the very worst thing, master. They're martyrs too in their own way- I've become…another…" Allen clenched her fist around her cloak in frustration and guilt, worrying and mutilating the black cloth by nearly ripping the tough fibers there. "…I've…I've become just another millennium earl to some!"

"Hurts to be compared with that insufferable fatty, doesn't it." Cross said unsympathetically. "He's put on a lot of weight as of recent, I think. All's still well, you're still the more attractive."

Allen squawked in indignation. "Master, be serious…"

"Don't think that I am doing anything otherwise," Cross muttered blithely, as he relit his pipe. "Anyhow, the point is that you cannot let yourself be victimized- the way you're whinging and moping around and _harping_ on things that shouldn't concern you- get _over_ yourself."

"Master-I've seen people die. I've killed my father with my own hands, and for him I fight. For the humans that populate my heart and this world I fight. For the akuma I fight…" Allen Walker told him. "So please don't tell me that I can't concern myself with them!"

Cross did not take any particular stance against what she said, instead waving it aside with an insulting ease. "I'd think it's pointless to convince you of anything, but the only way to actually get anything through that thick skull of yours is to either drum it in with a hammer or let you experience it for yourself. So what would you like better?- learn it the easy or hard way, respectively?"

She couldn't think of anything that belonged more to the school of hard knocks other than Cross and his hammer. However, it had been made clear long ago that the battlefield upon which she was on her own, was far more brutal than anything Cross could dole out.

"Kanda said too, that I was too naïve."

"So he did. He's right. Well, that's the only thing so far from him that's of any redeeming value whatsoever." Cross snapped. "That goddammed softy Tiedoll doesn't know how to train kids right. The point being that you are only making yourself a victim by the way you let yourself feel. You are victimizing yourself- this is your path, you chose it, and you're walking it to the bitter end. You cannot let yourself feel anything over it."

She heard the unspoken: To do so was to succumb to the despair that was like a ripple in the pond, sending liquid currents of it to shock the rest of the exorcism world.

"I know- if the exorcists fall-"

"I'm not talking about that, stupid." Cross said. A hard flick of his fingers against her forehead, making her yelp. "You're an expendable resource as of now, but your value is not nil because of the damned fact that you're a damned exorcist, and you better damned act like one already. I'm talking about _you_. Not of what'll happen to a bunch of blockheads out there because of your fucking up, I'm talking about the firsthand and foremost consequences. The thing is: Do you believe?"

"I believe…"

She had her faith in humanity, which in turn had placed a – perhaps misplaced- a trust in her as an exorcist.

"I believe…in the good in people." The exorcist triumphantly stated.

Cross snorted. "Self-righteous enough for a newbie exorcist to cut 'is teeth on. Fair enough, though. And I believe in mediocrity."

"…" Mediocrity was safe, safe enough so that Cross in all his brilliance could never be overshadowed and yet never be in his truest, finest form. "I am no tool." She stated as politely as possible.

"And that's where you're wrong. All your actions as of now are that of a tool's, living for your purpose of eradicating akuma. Fine. Self-contradictory, but it might not turn out to be problematic. Well, now that I've confirmed that you're _still_ an idiot…" Cross mumbled.

"Was there anything in particular that you wished to inform me of?" She asked hopelessly, feeling drowsiness suddenly give a little tug at her consciousness.

"Nothing as of yet, although you would do well to prepare for a new mission elsewhere." The general said carelessly. "Vienna will be left in Komui's hands once he comes, and there's another mission that I think is best left to you."

"Another mission?" Allen inquired. "That means-then-that means that I'm going to be taken off the Vienna mission? Why?"

"It has yet to be confirmed by that sis-con, but I daresay you'll be removed to England."

"England!" More than ever, she was aware of how stressed her Queen's accent was, and just how curiously pronounced and obvious it was when compared to her master's own.

"That's what I said, idiot. Your place of origin, I believe." Cross stated, tipping ashes out of his pipe and sticking it back into his mouth, gnawing on the stem thoughtfully. "Technically speaking, it's supposed to under my jurisdiction since I was issued an order to investigate the related cases, and it all leads to there."

"But why? It doesn't happen to be that-"

"No, not about your arm. As far as I know, this new…change…is only known by your companions, and of course myself, who only has been informed because of Timcanpi's recording function. Sooner or later you'll have to report to Komui though, for him to medically examine you."

"Oh." The exorcist had no idea just when she had begun to doubt her arm, which was the only thing that she could trust to help her pull through everything.

"You're be reassigned as soon as he arrives with Hevlaska and his lot in tow, with another exorcist accompanying you. Since it's an infiltration mission, one person is not enough. I suggested that since you were English and more than competent as a cheat, you would be excellent for the job."

Allen shuddered visibly, not at all appreciating the double-bladed compliment, if it could even be considered one. Being skilled in more dubious occupations was not something to be proud of, even if she wasn't ashamed of it due to necessity.

"The infiltration of a gambling ring, in particular. I assume that you haven't yet seen the ah, little calling card that Tyki Mick left behind for you on Timcanpi?" Cross said, causing her to choke on her breath. "Apparently he recorded it for your benefit."

"That…"

"Yes, Noah."

It was with a growing sense of dread about what Cross had just informed her of that she watched the recording, the fuzziness and the erratic bouncing of the camera angle doing nothing to even so much as mercifully obscuring the view. Good God, washing her hair as opposed to eating had just moved onto the top of her list of priorities, if that black-hearted murdering fiend had actually gone as far as touching it. Stroked it. The horrors.

Cross leered at her terrified groan, and she pointedly ignored it. More importantly was the significance of the hint that Tyki had purposely left for her in regards to England. Inasmuch the man was a Noah, the fact that he seemed to be toying with her was a possibility, since the Millenium Earl's orders apparently held precedence over the other Noahs' wills and she had always assumed that they were acting under a greater influence to have so much conviction behind their evil- or what she considered evil- motives.

"…_Rakuen_?" She voiced tentatively, the word unfamiliar and bulky and awkward upon her lips- she was not so fluent with Japanese that she could actually understand anything apart from the rudimentary phrases that was necessary in day to day living.

"And I thought that you had picked up the lingo last time we went to Japan…." Her master complained past the pipe gripped in his teeth. "….But I guess that's a bit too much for a mental degenerate like you…"

"_Master_…." She cracked her knuckles almost threateningly, the little pops almost satisfying as she worked her human hand out of its stiffness- she didn't have the confidence to do anything with her innocence-imbued hand as of yet.

"Unfortunately, 'rakuen' isn't something I can explain to you yet. I admit- this is something I am very well acquainted with. But I can't tell you."

Why wasn't she surprised that he knew about it? Her master was mired in secret knowledge, and yet despite being her master was ironically one of the most unapproachable people in her life.

"Why?" She demanded hotly. It was her right to know, as she had been recently inflicted with this disjointed knowledge. "You're rather have me go into battle- into England- blind?"

England still held some memories other than the scent of fish and chips and a smoky taste in her mouth every time she inhaled the air. It was the death of her life.

It was not that she liked to exploit her own admittedly prevalent vulnerabilities to take advantage of her status as his ward, but if anything, that would be pretty much the only way to get Cross's attention.

"Actually…yes." There was no hesitation in her master's voice.

"What I don't know will kill me." Allen hedged, attempting to pry something if only out of the sympathy that she hoped he possessed somewhere in his shriveled, depraved, black little heart. "I would believe that it is more…um, prudent, to be aware and informed."

"Just fall on your knees and pray to God, then. Lightning can strike and kill me any day of the week, but I don't know which day." Cross returned with his usual snark, miming a violin.

She'd been thinking more along the lines of angry husband/boyfriend/suitor, but lightning would have struck him down for his vanity just as well.

"You're keeping something from me-you've always have." Allen reiterated, deciding to restate it, as the sympathy card obviously didn't work on Cross.

"It's for your own good."

"Whatever it is, I…I feel confident enough in my own abilities as well as my own motives to confront whatever it is that you feel that I cannot cope with." A textbook response, well tailored to what Allen knew Cross would expect.

However, as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she once again remembered a red dress and red blood and a locket whose owner she was unable to protect or reconcile with, to the very end. It was only marginally that progress had been made to reluctant acceptance of a past that never was, but now the future- it all looked so bleak in front of her two sad eyes.

"Than you're dead wrong, and damn all your ideals to hell. You're in over your head." Cross told her frigidly.

That answer was at the very least one that had been quite unexpected, since he had never before really cared for the fact that she was living her life for one reason alone, and what pain she felt was really just her own business.

"I am not in over my head!" Allen slammed back. "This is my life now- I have every single right to ensure that my purpose is achieved. You've only aided and abetted me up until now, and I thank you for it. But you've always kept so much from me-"

"If I've kept anything from you, it was because there was nothing to say. This Rakuen affair is left to you. That Tyki left you the hint, didn't he. If you follow along this, you'll eventually see it."

"But you know something and I don't have this time- the more I waste time, the more people die- can't you see that?!"

Can't he see that all she wanted to do was to ensure that people would be saved?

It was not just Cross's unyielding sternness that caused Allen such frustration, but it was rather that he was of the opinion that mirrored her own, and it was the fact that somebody else actually thought the same as her deepest and most cutting self-condemnations that made it all the more bruising. That she truly was as insufficient as she had believed herself to be- and if anything, he was one of the very worst critics just because out of all the people whom populated her sphere, he was the one who knew her best.

"It's not that you lack the motivation." The general's face was unreadable, his expression neutral and not condemning nor comforting. "You have enough bravery and determination to fuel ten armies of empty-headed nitwits."

Of course, straight and direct praise from Cross was inexistent. That most definitely was not a compliment, even if he did call her motivated.

"So you're merely concerned that once I learn the truth behind this 'Rakuen' or whatever it is, I'd most likely be motivated to run off and commit something rash. I'm never that _bloody stupid_, and thank you very much for the vote of confidence."

Perhaps it was just the fever that was making Allen hotheaded and confrontational, as opposed to her spell of weakness in front of one of the most infuriating exorcists that she had ever had the misfortune to work with. Either way, lack of self control at the moment was not an issue to meet head on at the moment, if only because it took a great deal of vexation and much loudness on her part to counter Cross Marian's abrasive personality.

The exorcist coughed, and instinctively turned away as a puff of foul smoke came in the proximity of her face.

"Watch it, Allen. My temper can only be pushed so far." Cross warned, uncharacteristically serious. He leaned forward, and caught her chin in his hand, tipping it up so that she was forced to stare at him straight on. His thumb pressed firmly against her lips, holding them closed so that she couldn't say anything.

Allen squirmed, but eyed him defiantly. His grip was too tight, and it hurt, but it was like staring Tyki Mick down in the bamboo clearing- it would get her nothing, or at the very least have painful repercussions.

"Unless you have forgotten in the duration of your stay among your peers, I have skill and experience and rank that surpass yours by far, and you will do well to listen to your master who only means for you not to get your ungrateful scrawny little ass into trouble when I'm not around to keep you out of it. You're in deeper shit than you think- all of you, but you especially."

For one, Allen would have begged to differ since it was her who had mostly dragged him out of trouble and paid off all his fees…

"…All of us?"

Again, that wan smirk. "So concerned when it comes to your comrades, eh? You shouldn't be. They'll drag you down- or rather, _you'll_ drag them down if you're not careful." Cross sneered in her face, his breath hot and smelling like tobacco on her cheek.

"Eh?"

"People out there are gunning for you. And you have realized that, haven't you?"

"People who get close to me inevitably die." She said duly. "I've known that for the longest time."

The longest time- it had been an eternity since she had been a young happy child. She no longer felt as young as her fifteen years.

The white claw, huge and too big for her tiny little form, dragging her along the road to impact with a sickening crush on the skeleton who had used to be her dearest father. Allen gulped back the saltiness that gathered in her throat, like a bitter burst of sorrow that still was as painful as ever even after so much time.

"The Millennium Earl isn't all you need to worry about, that's all I'm saying. I'd be more concerned with your own well-being and the Order. Keep your elbows out, girl. That's all I'm saying but I daresay you already know that."

Three short raps on the door, light and hesitant; Allen detected a sort of reluctance if only going by how far-spaced the knocks were. And much to her surprise, Rinali poked her head in.

"General Cross? General Tiedoll-oh!" The pretty Chinese exorcist stared at them with wide eyes that suddenly looked a shade flatter and devoid of energy. It was a strange sight, no doubt, master and student rarely not at odds with each other- Cross lounging on one end of the couch and Allen propped up on the other arm, no doubt looking miserable.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting you?" She said, strangely formal and polite and not meeting Allen's eyes or making eye contact at all.

The British exorcist wrenched herself unceremoniously out of the general's grasp, expression noticeably softening by far from impatient aggression into relief as she turned towards the door with almost a sense of respite.

"Rinali…Thank God you're safe." Allen blurted out, before her hands flew up to her face and she noted with a growing sense of dread that some of her makeup had indeed rubbed off, and that no doubt her features would look that much softer. "I heard about the Order-"

"Thank God for the miracle that we've all survived." Rinali replied, although with a distinct lack of enthusiasm and with a half-hearted, almost bitter smile.

"…Rinali…" The cold prickle of foreboding that was strangely present so often lately again made its reappearance in a rock that settled itself comfortably into the pit of her stomach. She tried to force an awkward smile, however tentative and out of place, onto her face if only to be the easygoing chap that Rinali thought she was. "What's wrong? Your brother's safe, he's-"

"Allen-we're friends, right?"

"…Of course." The exorcist stated, the end of her sentence turning slightly up in a question.

"Then, why?"

"Why-why what?"

"You know why."

It was as if the world all whirled to a stop, right there. And in the center of the frozen maelstrom was Allen Walker and Rinali and a thousand unsaid words of hurt and betrayal and no doubt, a broken friendship.

"In other words," Cross interrupted, seemingly more for Allen's benefit than anything else. "Rinali _knows_."

She knew. Allen's breath caught disbelievingly in her chest, and at one glance she saw that it was true, confirmed by the way that Rinali looked anywhere but at her, jaw tightly clenched and fist gripping the waist of her torn and ragged dress so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"How she found out is up for her to inform you, if she will. And close your mouth, idiot disciple- you look like a fool and flies will settle there. It was bound to come out sooner or later."

Allen obediently picked her jaw off her lap, regarding with an almost surreal numbness just how Rinali refused to look at her with her dark eyes hidden beneath her bangs. "Ri-Rinali…" She stuttered, completely at a loss.

She turned to Cross. "I can't do this, I can't. I can't handle this." Allen whispered, terrified, so only he could hear. "It's not time yet- it should have lasted longer-"

"Hmph. It's life- you climb on the beast and just ride. You can at least do that, can't you? You're not _that _emotionally fragile." Cross said to her. "You said that you're ready for anything, didn't you."

Allen bristled.

"Timcanpi, we're leaving, real men aren't wanted here. Well, Tim and I will be taking our leave then, leave you two lovely ladies to sort things out." Cross said smoothly, giving her hair a leisurely ruffle, snatching the golden golem in midair and departing before Allen could even beg him to stay and mediate even if he wasn't the most tactful person to begin with.

Allen buried her face in her drawn up knees, her cheekbones against the twin mounds of her kneecaps, wishing for the earth to merely swallow her existence on the spot just so she wouldn't have to face the music and to see the hurt betrayed look on her friend's face.

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A/N: No, I don't own that quote by Cross, the one about life being a beast- that's taken from the Divine Secrets of the Yaya Sisterhood, I think. I just thought that it fit pretty well.

Please R+R, i'm curious about the reactions to this chapter.


	43. The Doll's Smile

Insert usual disclaimer.

A/N: I wrote this chapter like ten times, and I still can't get the hang of it. It's been around a month since I've really written anything like this, so I think I got rusty. As it is, I've pretty much beaten the hell out of it alread, and this is my best rewrite so far. Hangs head in shame Pretty much only the dialogue bits are relevant. Next chapter will have much more action- I'm getting sort of tired of writing so much exposition, although that's probably what people like best about this fic.

I'm...really iffy on both of their characterization here, damn it.

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Ch. 43

The Doll's Smile

She was sick of it all.

All at once, guilty resentment welled up in her and shattered the composure that she would need to face down the inquisition that was undoubtedly going to commence within a minute or so. Then, uncertainty bordering on paranoid hysteria creeping into her mind like tendrils of blood dispersing into bathwater after she washed off traces of a day's injuries.

That slow burn of uneasy knowledge that someday it was going to be all over had been something that Allen had been nursing within her bound bosom for quite a while, her mind always being drawn back and back and back. It was like a festering wound that never scabbed over because she kept on picking at it, hoping that it would heal cleanly even as it runneth over with pus and infections.

Allen had always nonchalantly excused her habit of wearing her hood as keeping the sun off her fair skin and shielding her from the wind, even the weather was mild and calm. The hood was just one more metaphor for deception.

Good God-Lenalee was looking at her. Hateful glances?

She'd had enough.

Allen had ducked her head- already a clear sign of guilt.

She was so sick. Sick of the accusing stares, the white hair that belied her young age, and most of all the fear that curled up in agonized writhing within the pits of her stomach, her deepest fear that all she had worked so hard to keep- those comrades and friends at whose sides she had wanted to be-would soon be gone.

'There is no place in friendship for deceit.' Cross had once said.

Which somewhat explained why he never really had any friend-friends, only lady-friends, but Allen had realized then that it took two in _any_ sort of relationship, and comaderie had to be reciprocated and bolstered.

That made being a friend very, very tough work.

It was time. Lenalee's eyes, betrayed eyes that burned and yet were so dark, black in her face and black as her mood no doubt.

Time when everything would come full circle and it was only the beginning, the start of a long chain of endless bombshells that slowly set themselves off as if coordinated so well with time.

"…I…" Allen started, glad that she sounded calmer than she actually was until her voice caught and she knew better than to expect very much from her pathetic skills of communication. Then cleared her throat. "…I have no excuses."

Silence from Lenalee, and Allen could not see her face. How ugly it was, anger and judgment and misunderstanding. How vicious was this silence, that it tore apart her conscience and laid havoc to Lenalee's own vehemence. How soft-hearted were they- women both of them, both with a girl's own righteous convictions and fervor, both wronged by the other.

"…You don't." Lenalee stated.

She couldn't read that tone, devoid of accusation and accents on any words. Allen never was enthusiastic about leaping into a confrontation especially when she was uncertain about the other party's state of mind or intentions. This lack of knowledge was a vulnerability many could exploit.

"That's right. I did it for myself, for once. Please forgive me." She said coolly, not liking how she sounded so stiff.

Allen tried to make a conjecture on just what hurt Lenalee more- Allen betraying her trust, or Lenalee having a crush on another girl, or even the mere discomfited feeling that she'd been taken for a fool.

What was she doing hiding her face like this? She had no shame, not with her painted face and mask that wasn't so pretty after all even after hours and hour and hours of attention Good God how long had she taken for the sake of safety. It was no longer a refuge, blast gender and everything, and she would not be judged.

Allen could never be ashamed of a necessary lie. She was not like one of Cross's scarlet women with their thickly applied crimson blush and slippery eyeshadow up to their brows. Not overtly sexualized like a painted whore, but rather was a damn good liar, but that was not appreciated.

"…It was so long ago that I started- I don't think I can even think of myself as a girl anymore, not without bringing up connotations that I'm an exorcist as well- haven't you noticed that there are very few female exorcists? It's no longer that- it doesn't matter anymore." Her fists clenched in the cloth of her cloak. "I'm not a _girl_. I'm the Destroyer of Time and nothing else."

If she kept on telling herself that every single time, maybe she'd believe it.

Resourcefulness was the way to go, and still, still Allen could not see any reason to be condemned. There was no thought. It was not reason, not when she had a reason to do so, when she had thought everything out long ago and lived by it, damn it. Lived by color and brush and pencil and had set it all in stone, in the cool dust of powder that secured her makeup where it belonged on her face. It was like stone, that mask and a cool weight, kept her within and persona behind the mystery that just had to be created.

"Isn't it an oppressive existence- denying what you want?" Lenalee insisted.

Allen thought she heard a frazzled undernote, as if Lenalee could not figure out how Allen saw herself, or if Allen had even acknowledged herself being a girl at all. Of course, Lenalee was assuming that she actually wanted to be seen as a girl- no self-respecting normal girl would ever deny her own 'softer' gender attributes, would she?

"I'm no normal girl." Allen reminded Lenalee. "And I lost all self-respect on the day I made my father into an akuma."

There it was- all her cards fanned out on the table.

But still she could juxtapose Allen Walker and Allen Walker, the boy-wannabe and the girl, and they would still be two same people who were in the same body. Identical in thought process and yet acted different- double standard double standard, the swift clench of her fists whenever Kanda in his pompous glory saw fit to fling a derogatory comment about women, and then her knuckles making an oh-so-satisfying impact in the air precariously near his face.

There was no excuse; There was only judgment like falling meteors, like Armageddon come and still her own fate would all be guilty of making her what she was, with her arm- why was it all necessary if not for the weakness of their hearts that she sought to protect _them_ from, protecting them for the darkness within their own hearts that made itself manifest under the shroud of grief.

Her knees that were curled up protectively against her bound chest, supporting her suddenly heavy head that was buried into it, hiding her face from the world. Her head to her knees to the couch, and that was all her world was supported on at the moment.

She hadn't lifted her head since Cross had taken Timcanpi and hightailed it out of the terse atmosphere that had in one fell swoop settled down, bringing the atmosphere low with a self-righteous, screaming, silent doom.

For some strange reason, the comment about _real _men not being wanted around at the particular instance was irking, even though by all rights she knew that she shouldn't be offended and that it wasn't a barb meant to taunt her, although with Cross she never knew.

Distantly, as if from far away, Allen heard Lenalee sit down, or rather felt her sadly brooding presence come close by and settle where her master had been. Again, the cushion on the couch depressed a little, although not so much as when Cross sat there since it didn't have to accommodate all that much more weight because of Lenalee's slender physique.

What was she thinking all her ideals running the gantlet, the gantlet of two sides which were irreconcilable? Can't Lenalee _see_? Can't anyone see other than her?

Can't they see that they were all _guilty_, guilty as she was and as wronged as she wronged herself? They made akuma as much as she did, but who was the only one actually giving a damn and actually doing anything about it? Couldn't they see that her reason was more important than she was, and perhaps more important than they were to her but that would only ever be relative. Run, run, kept within a single thread that tied her life and everything that she had lived up until now, and that single savior was going to be cut away. Sewn secure the cracks that ran through her head and her heart and there was nothing that she could do- it wasn't about being a girl anymore. It was all about keeping her together in one piece until she was old enough to defend herself and even then it was not enough, and Cross had told her to watch out for whoever was gunning for her. The snipers from the shadows would have to wait.

Because: It never was about being a girl, Allen realized. But that was relative too, only to her; No, there would be little consideration that Lenalee and anyone else she had wronged were the only ones who suffered.

Against all she was being confronted at the moment, Allen was glad that it was a couch and not a hard chapel bench that Kanda had chosen to deposit her on, although by all rights worldly creature comforts like soft couches were not fit for monks to spend their alms on buying to furnish their cathedral with.

"Friends look out for each other, and they tell each other things. You can't trust me that far?" Lenalee finally whispered into the deafening silence that threatened to overwhelm her thought processes. "I knew that you had many secrets, so many that are too deep and too private and still too cutting that you don't- you can't- share with us, but at the very least…I wanted to help you, even if I do have to shoulder a little of that burden."

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry." She found herself blurting out, remorse that she didn't feel so much as thought choking her voice and the fact that she still wasn't looking up muffling her words a little.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Allen Walker. I'm sorry too- that you had to bear this alone. I'm sorry that you can't trust friends with it. It's a secret, and while I can't say I exactly understand your reasons for doing so…well, perhaps I've overstepped my boundaries then. As a friend- we _are_ friends, aren't we?!" Lenalee's voice sounded raw and hoarse with emotion.

"We are- but it's not a secret I should tell."

"I don't see why it's really a secret in the first place."

Lenalee was right.

Neither did she really- protection was overrated. Identity was overrated. And the gender divide was overrated, even if there were only several occupations that a guardian-less girl would be forced into, and all of them turned her stomach in a discomfited way. It still forced shudders to run up and down her spine, whenever she saw Cross pick up prostitutes from darkened, sooty street corners: women desperate for the touch of a man who would feed them, clad in clothes that displayed their wares of flesh in garish ways that made Allen blush for them because they no longer blushed for their own lack of modesty.

But all her life, Allen had been groomed to live like a male. And then realization struck her: All her life she had been reared in preparation for a life that she would have to live alone.

How much had Mana Walker foreseen? How much had he known- for he must have known- that she would end up all alone again? How and why did he know that he was going to die and leave her?

He had been a relatively young person- when she was younger he had seemed so old but age had been relative then to such a little kid- and she would have pegged him to only be in his thirties.

Allen sighed; Lenalee was not making it very easy for her. Lenalee always, always understood so much- derived words from a single glance, a touch, one single wrong move.

"Who told you?- Master?" Allen asked calmly, if not somewhat guardedly.

A test.

The answer would be sufficient indication of whether or not she was still trusted by the other exorcist, and Allen had always been of the habit of reading people- essential a skill as it was in poker, where the twitch of a hand and the flicker of a eye meant everything.

Within all reason Lenalee should have felt betrayed, and from what Allen could gather from the mill of whisper and low tones within the rather chaotic infrastructure of the Order employees- little snippets here and there- Lenalee had some issues that lurked underneath such a pretty and guileless face.

"I don't think I can bring myself to say anything either." She admitted with a honest bluntness, the one and the same that she thought Lenalee deserved to hear. "I'm so sorry."

She looked the older exorcist in the eye. "But I know I can't excuse what I did." She stated calmly. "I know you trusted me a lot."

"We all did- we believed in your conviction."

"That wasn't a lie. None of it was…none but this. Disbelieve me if you will, but I never lied about anything else, especially not about wanting to fight along everyone else. I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"I'm sorry too. That you're too much of an emotional coward-"

Allen winced.

"But you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad that you lied to us. I'm mad because you didn't tell me. You didn't lie- you just didn't tell me-_Us_." Lenalee added, too hastily. "You're always doing everything on your own."

"I work with you all, and it's my respon-"

"-but do we really mean all that much to you? I'm not condemning you, but you _do_ realize that we could have kept a secret. I wouldn't have told anyone- but you always do have to go it alone, don't you!"

Allen flinched at her tone. "The Earl is a formidable force. And it's a secret." She said harshly, forcing steel into her voice.

"That's a cruel mercy!- that you'd spare us from your troubles and take it all on yourself!"

"It's my responsibility and I'm sure as hell not dragging you into it. I thank you all for your support, but you can't be my crutch. I depend on my comrades for me to go on- people are my reason, but damn it, I don't want any of you getting hurt." Allen said staunchly, noting with a wistful sadness how Lenalee's eyes widened at hearing her curse.

"It's yours to tell- it's yours to live with. Why can't you let the rest of us care for you like how you care for us? It tears me apart, Allen-it kills me to see you and not understand just why. I don't know you anymore, Allen. I thought I did, but you'll never let us get close enough. Why can't we at the very least help?"

"It's not your place to do so," Allen mumbled, fumbling with unfamiliar words that she never wanted to say. "It's not your life, and no-one should have to help me at all. It's-"

"…It's?"

"-It's-It's not safe! I can't. I can't let any of you. It's not safe for you. For me. Hell, for anyone. I don't even trust myself to that extent. I can't do that when my existence is a contradiction, and when I can't even yet be strong for others." She finally said. "My father died. He was my first akuma. I met my birth mother just a day ago- she died. And how many have the Earl killed because he was seeking me, this destroyer of time with a cursed eye and a disfigured arm, out?"

"It's not safe for you most of all!"

"Don't you think I don't know that already- ever since Mana told me that I'd have to be very careful, there were big bad monsters out there. You don't know the half of it, Lenalee. I was four years old. I wished I was born without this-this-arm- it's taken away my family. I want my birth mother back-I want it all back but I can't." Allen said evenly.

"But-"

"No buts, ifs, or anything! This is the only way- personal sacrifices will have to be made and I'm sorry, honestly very apologetic if it hurt you. I never wanted anyone else to hurt other than myself-"

She'd shut up. Allen reflected that it was as good a time as ever to just stop trying to make excuses for something that was entirely inexcusable or forgivable, and it was only then that she realized that the reasons_had_ made more sense in her head than it did out loud.

"Do those sacrifices include you?"

"_Especially_ me." Allen hissed. "Especially me since that's all I have to give, myself and this arm and this eye of mine. The Earl will kill anybody to out me, and thusly I have to do more to accommodate the losses…I…I.." She cleared her dry throat, her voice clinging inside and refusing to come out.

"…I wouldn't be able to live with myself any other way." Allen told Lenalee bleakly. "I can't."

"So you refuse to let yourself grow close to us?" Lenalee asked reasonably. "So you won't get hurt and feel guilty if we die?"

"No, that's not it- you're all my important people. And you're my comrade. I fight alongside you- I wouldn't trade that place for anything in this world."

"You're not making any sense at all, Allen. This _isn't_ why you disguised as a man." Lenalee sighed.

The motives Mana had for her concealment had been nebulously explained at best; after all, a little child was not very inclined to preserve information very well. Cross had never talked to her about it, maintained that it was 'for her own protection if she knew what was best for her,' (which she didn't) and when she was younger she had retained a healthy sense of fear about the general (which was justified considering how she acted as personal whipping boy/butler/maid).

As well as self-preservation.

"No," Allen found herself retorting tartly. "_No_, I _don't_ make any sense because you're _not_ asking me why I'm supposed to be a man. You're attacking me on _why I never told you anything._"

"…We are your friends- you care- so why won't you allow us to care for you?"

"…I think I just reiterated mere minutes ago that I can't." Allen said, almost sullenly.

The darkness under her crossed arms, on her knees where her face was buried, was slightly relieved when Lenalee bent her head down in an attempt to look at her, and pry her head up. Allen turned away into the couch in a nearly sullen, desperate action. The couch's upholstery was of a smooth material that had been worn with age, and it distinctively gave off an odor of moths and mothballs.

"That doesn't tell me anything, Allen- why didn't you tell me? Tell us? I had to hear from Rhode and your master- I would have rather heard it straight from you- maybe it would have been some closure-"

"Rhode?!" Allen's eyes widened, upon mention of the sadistic girl who drove stakes through her arm and occupied her own void in timespace. "I'm so sorry- I really, I really did not mean to lead you on like that." She uttered. "My identity-it's not who you think it is. Personality-wise we're the same- but I can never be the boy in your eyes. I'm sorry if I've allowed you to become too attached to my boy self-"

It was then that Allen came to the slow realization that perhaps she shouldn't have said that.

Lenalee was silent. Then, "Was it Kanda?"

"What about Kanda?"

"He told you…"

Allen thanked the heaven that Lenalee left that sentence unfinished, as it was already awkward enough with a love confession to complicate matters, and she owed Kanda for actually informing her even if she was sure it was more out of spite than anything else.

"Eh?- Oh. Um." Honestly, she was not sure if it was appropriate admitting to Lenalee that Kanda too had not kept her crush in confidence, since it would be like adding salt to the wound, a double dealing of pain of betrayal. "I…"

"Allen? You're not telling me things again. In that case, you still cannot trust me even on this?"

It was almost vicious, such a gentle if somewhat arch rebuff from Lenalee.

"I haven't been toying with your feelings. I haven't meant to make you feel anything else than….friendship," Allen said delicately and deliberately. "I honestly, didn't want to have you guys get so attached to me. I didn't want all of it to- to- fall down on me. Crash down on me like it is now."

"Nobody else…?"

"If you haven't told anyone else, it'd be just you, Master, and the Earl and his cronies who know. That I'm a girl." Allen added needlessly, for the first time confirming it to another with her own mouth. Saying it. The words did not come easily off her tongue, nor did they feel quite right in that carthartic way she had expected.

So she said it again.

"…I'm a girl." Allen said, feeling strange, as if she was just realizing for the first time the entire magnitude of her deception and the cruel spontaneity with which Lenalee had experienced the truth.

"I still have my doubts about that, you know."

"But I am." Allen blurted out immediately, without thinking.

It sounded all the more treacherous saying it like that, and all the more unfair to Linali who had been deceived all along. Not even such a kind heart could be so forgiving.

"Oh. And the Noahs knew first."

"Yes-" Allen winced. "-They found out. I have no idea how but it certainly changes a lot of things."

"Then why are you still hiding? There's no reason for you now, right? You're a trained and accomplished exorcist, and you can protect yourself very well."

Allen froze, fingers grasping unfeelingly at her pants, just as her mind scrabbled uselessly from plunging over the precipice of reason: Indeed, she had made an excellent point. Why?

Now that the Millennium Earl knew, there was very little sense in keeping up a subterfuge that was no longer needed, and to some extent hampered her. But still, the thick, heavy mask of makeup was her shell- it was not worth giving up if in the process she lost all her friends. The consequences of falsehood and lying was profound, and it battered away at her somewhat sensitive soul and its need for human emotion; Her one-track mind, on the other hand, refused to permit any deviation from her sole task of exorcism, and thusly contradiction was inevitable, as well as much heartache over just what to do.

In the end, anything that would impede her like this longtime, familiar, and yet unwanted and no longer necessary arrangement would have to go, inasmuch as she was scared to death of the day it would happen.

"Lenalee- I'm in no position to actually be saying something like this, but-"

What could Allen tell her? That it would be no more than selfishness if she cared about her friends- notwithstanding the fact that they too cared for her, but it was a realization that it was not pleasant to be the one being protected.

It wasn't at all nice to be the one who couldn't do anything, the one to be protected just because. To be the one with the goal, the motivation- to lack that Allen would rather have hung herself.

"It's not easy for you, is it…" Lenalee said, finally.

"…Easy?"

"For me to…for you to be discovered like this."

Allen was silent for a while. "…I eventually would have told you. And everybody else."

"When?"

Allen's lips quirked in a mirthless grin. "Sometime. When I set things right."

The British exorcist deliberately left much unsaid: _When the Earl is vanquished. When you're no longer responsible to be my comrade. When you can all forget about me. _

"Never?"

"Not never. In the near future." Allen stated. She would vanquish the earl and his akuma and the suffering that they brought as heralds of Armageddon.

Akuma Allen would easily face. She lived for them, after all, and they could not condemn her like everyone else would be able to. As much as her heart went out to them and as much as she needed them to prove that her existence was needed, human beings were terrifying at times. Or rather, the scopes of what they were capable of doing and feeling.

She was frightened. Facing death would be a more preferred feeling to the coiling and curling one of a most interesting concoction of guilt and defensiveness and resentment. All of it directed towards herself because it only mattered how they, the people she now lived for, thought of her, and that reflected on how she believed in herself.

"Allen…Allen-look at me." Lenalee told her.

Allen had very little idea how to react to that voice- it was not full of the warmth that Lenalee would usually have shown her, would have shown the Allen Walker that she had thought that she was and possessed a little crush on.

Allen sighed, knowing full well that she should have seen the signs earlier and should have taken great care not to let everyone become so accustomed to a persona that sooner or later that she would have to discard.

She should have known better, and it was like adding insult to injury how even the reputedly frigid and insensitive exorcist _Kanda Yuu_ had even been alert to the warning signs of a dangerous relationship forming. Kanda. Now there was something wrong with her reasoning, even if he who possessed no emotion actually picked up on something before her. There had never been a reason to implement a non-fraternization rule among the exorcists, considering how there were never any mitigating circumstances that called for any restrictions upon how they interacted with each other off their missions.

"Allen?"

"Mmmph." Allen tried turning away once more, but slender chilled fingers, long and femininely tapered off, landed on her cheek. "Lenalee….your hands are cold." The exorcist stammered out, curling instinctively away from the touch.

"That's irrelevant. And you deserve it anyhow."

Allen was caught by surprise, the soft notes of sadness and affection and petulant humor that colored her voice and made it all the more warm to her. "Eh?"

"I'm still mad at you and I really do think you're as much as a self-sacrificing idiot that your master says." Lenalee continued.

"Lenalee…"

"You can't expect to come into our lives and not expect to affect us. You're our own Allen Walker, and you're wrong if you think that we can't care for you the same way you care for us. Real friends share, Allen."

Real friends- that stung Allen, even more than the previous barb about her being an emotional coward.

"So-are you going to tell anyone?"

Allen twitched, no doubt visibly, uncomfortable with the way Lenalee seemed to intend to browbeat everything out of her first. She did not resent that- it was the older girl's right, and she would not deny her that privilege especially since she no doubt was the one Allen had hurt the most.

"….No. Not yet. If anything, you're all too attached to my boy self that it'd be a shock that we don't need now. It'd complicate matters." Was all she replied and needed to reply. "Please- Lenalee-please don't ask me any more."

Suddenly, Allen felt herself lurching forward, and her head snapped up just as Lenalee hugged her. It was a disorienting, novel feeling, feeling another woman pressed up so closely against her, and it reminded her of another embrace from a certain blonde-haired lady, who no longer lived.

It suddenly was warm. Her eyes slid off to the side, unable to meet the other girl's.

"I'm really sorry it had to be like this, Allen. I didn't know. I don't mean to judge you either." Lenalee whispered softly in the shell of her ear, her warm breath fanning out there and over the base of her neck.

"Does that mean-does that mean you don't…you don't want to be friends anymore?" Allen pulled away, eyes downcast. The familiar shadow of her white bangs, a cool and silvery shadow that brought out the undertones of grey in her eyes- she ducked within herself once more. Wanted to suspend the moment, so that she could return to the time a week, a month ago, when everything was still alright.

And then Lenalee smiled. And gave her a hard flick on the forehead.

"Ow!" Allen's head snapped back up in indignation, mouth wide and disbelieving. "You did _not_ take that from my master."

Nearly horrified, Allen speculated on just what her devious master had impressed upon innocent and corruptible Lenalee.

"General Cross is a very informative man."

"I do not even want to even know just what sort of knowledge he chose to enlighten you with…" Allen muttered. The time she fell down a chimney when trying to clean it out came to mind, as well as several other unfortunate events came to mind. "That womanizing _jerk_…"

She was rewarded with a chuckle from the other exorcist, who was no doubt amused by her self-justified ire, although personally she could find very little funny about being forced to pay bills and do work.

"I…It doesn't matter to me. You're still Allen Walker." Lenalee said softly. "But…"

"Eh?"

"But…just let me…let me keep my image of who I thought you were, just a little more. Just a little…I really…"

"Eh?"

"…I really…I really liked you as a boy-I mean that as a boy you were- no, I – well, it's like- oh, I don't know! It's just that it's not the same even if you're still the same person."

"Oh." She could see the tact in that, and it would be nothing but cruelty to Lenalee to let her ramble on and on awkwardly about that. "I know."

Lenalee's dark eyes were troubled, dewy-moist under her eyelashes with emotion. "Can I ask something of you?" She inquired, almost hestitantly.

"Anything you want." Allen told her empathetically, more than eager to redeem herself and to take the edge off the blade of guilt that was currently and mercilessly hacking away at her innards.

"Can…can you take your makeup off? I want to see your face."

Needless to say, it was not with a little bit of surprise which she regarded Lenalee with. "Um, are you sure?"

"…Is there anything wrong with it?"

"Not at all, not at all!" Allen reassured her immediately. But she shrugged and complied anyhow, digging through her pockets for a handkerchief because of the lack of hot water.

The strong, cotton texture swept over her cheekbones, grazing downwards to dab hard at above and around her jaw. Normally, it was quite painful and abrasive to take the makeup directly off without rinsing a little of it off beforehand; Lenalee's steady, curious gaze ghosted over her.

Allen carefully patted away at the darker portions of the shadows first, not so glad that she had used a cream formula instead of a tinted powder since it made the removal all the more difficult.

Learning to blend the flesh toned foundations of varying shades into her own real skin had been an excruciating process at first, especially since she would accidentally cross colors at times and cause everything to look odd and unnatural. As she grew older it had been evident that sooner or later it would be harder to disguise the fact that her bone structure was very delicate and feminine, her features becoming more and more difficult to broaden and flesh out.

"…" With each little bit that she took off, it was agonizing. Lenalee's response; Her own unwillingness to actually give up that little secret part of her that was a girl to anyone else, and yet she possessed a great eagerness to actually relieve herself of so much time of keeping it all to herself.

She'd share this little bit of herself with Lenalee and nobody else; Perhaps it would give them both catharsis as well as closure to their friendship. That was, it was all left up to Lenalee.

The cloth dropped limply from her hand once she was finished, and she waited for judgment to toll.

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"I'm sorry too. That you're too much of an emotional coward-" The words rolled spitefully off before Lenalee could repress them.

What happened to the benefit of doubt?

It stung Lenalee's pride, made her cheeks flush in irritation: she'd had been duped, along with everyone else including her genius brother. She honestly could not discern whether it was out of arrogance that Allen had taken everyone for a fool, or it was out of a genuine concern for safety. It had been a necessary process, if what Lenalee had surmised from what little bits and pieces Allen had reluctantly told her.

And then there was that awful self-sacrificing quality that was in both female and male Allen; Lenalee had figured that it ran deep, and was inseparable from either identity that the other girl carried.

Couldn't this strange girl in front of her see? See that she was selfish in being selfish, guilty as Lenalee herself was guilty in that she caused pain to herself and thusly others to suffer because they cared?

"That's a cruel mercy- that you'd spare us from your troubles and take it all on yourself." She had meant every word, having described to a word the most prominent human fault that ran in the Destroyer of Time.

Why was such a messiah so imperfect?

_"You have a Jesus complex."_ Lenalee had wanted to say, but didn't.

_"Are you like how Cross thinks the clergy are?"_ She wanted to cry to her. _'Do you believe in the ends justifies the means even if it includes sacrificing yourself?"_

_"Your master thinks that there's a possibility that you're not the prophesized messiah that you and everyone thinks you are."_ She wanted to scream at her.

_"There's one rule on the battlefield: Death. And that's applicable to even you, too."_ She wished that Allen would get that through his- her- thick head.

And then_: "Why, why, why?"_

Of course, Lenalee had no wish to assume that Allen was being put out or anything to that effect by keeping up her masquerade, but finally she had gotten to the bottom of the mystery regarding just why bandages were always missing from the infirmary stocks.

Although she hadn't wanted to- and indeed it was uncharacteristic of her- she had just plowed right ahead regardless of worrying over whether or not Allen would have been offended or hurt, and she was currently regretting it.

"Friends look out for each other, and they tell each other things. You can't trust me that far?" She had nearly shouted at the other exorcist.

However, despite all, Lenalee could not keep back the self-righteous hurt of betrayal from seeping into her voice like an acidic poison, corroding what she remembered that she had thought of on the train to say to her friend. Savagery was not hers to wield; That was best left to Kanda or even General Winters, since they were capable of twisting their own feelings to such a deep extent that they could easily blind themselves to humanity as a whole and coldly act with mechanical efficiency. But emotion had overwhelmed all else, especially when she had seen such a wretched response- or lack of- from Allen Walker.

For one, the other exorcist had refused to look at her- a clear sign of guilt, that softened her heart by far. Lenalee mentally veered off from that train of thought; Right now all that mattered was to force the truth and reasons out of Allen Walker or beat it out of her, as reluctant as she was to resort to such crude tactics.

But no other way would work- this was not the soft, innocent Allen with a heart of gold that she had been proud to call friend. This was a stranger who she wasn't sure was the same person that she had thought him- her- to be.

It hurt.

It hurt for Lenalee to come to the conclusion that she had been taken in by such a false front, especially when it was right in front of her eyes and she could clearly feel her feelings making themselves manifest themselves in her heart once more, as they had never gone away.

Especially because those feelings ran so deep, and she had poured her heart out, and, and she needed to know how much falsehood she had worshiped until then. They had rooted themselves into her core involuntarily, and pulling them all out would take time that she didn't have.

Lenalee couldn't deny that she didn't understand and that she had no right meddling, but overall the hurt was more than enough for her to release some choice words that were, in hindsight, perhaps not the best to say nor called for at all.

A simple condemnation would not suffice; In fact, contrary to her normally sweet and gentle nature that had endeared her to the entirety of the Order staff, she felt wounded enough to actually direct a malicious barb or two. There was one thing about Allen Walker that had always been different from male exorcists - ego meant very little, and she would have suspected that if the insults weren't at all personal and directed at her curse or her abilities, both of which were her reason to live, Allen would happily ignore Kanda.

To bolster her quavering nerves and to bring home the point to her unsteady, still in denial heart, she had asked the younger exorcist to kindly show her true face. Which she did, abet somewhat reluctantly and shyly.

Come to think of it, the Allen Walker who had set her heart pounding had only exhibited androgyny, which she should have noticed first. None of the traits of men- and then, none of the intimidation and the ego that was prevalent in what was a male-dominated religious affair. And secondly, it was her own fault for becoming 'too attached' in a certain sense as Allen put it tastefully.

"Can…can you take your makeup off? I want to see your face." She had known that to see that was to recognize it, and she at first hadn't been too convinced that she should just let it be and not inquire any more, but she needed to see.

Lenalee needed to reconcile the boy-Allen of the past with the girl-Allen now, or otherwise she can't ever look into those blue-grey eyes again.

However, she still saw flashes of the boy in the girl, the same spirited pupils and the same smile, even if it was a little uncertain. Those momentary reminders of her own heartache made the girl even harder on the eyes without flinching and remembering just what a beautiful friendship she'd just thrown away. If she didn't accommodate Allen right now, perhaps the British exorcist would never speak to her again.

Lenalee nearly gasped at what she glimpsed under that mask. A jaw that was much less square and angular, curving naturally into what appeared to be a softer chin and a slim little neck under the dress shirt. A bow shaped mouth that actually looked in place, and not overly sensual and full for a man. Even eyebrows- sloping slightly, thinner; And then the distinct lack of prominence of the brow ridges. All in all, dainty feminine features that she had always somewhat in the back of her mind foreseen as perhaps even a better fit on a woman than on a pretty androgynous male.

She was lovely, but not in a wholesome rosy-cheeked way, but rather in a much more refined, fragile way- Lenalee was secure enough in herself to admit that of another female. Allen Walker had been quite…pretty as a boy, but as a girl, she was beautiful.

There was a certain sort of breakability that lent itself to this stranger's- yes, the girl was somewhat more of a stranger than the boy had been, at least for now, but no less close to her heart- and it was so very delicate that it appeared that any outstanding force would rip her too-pale face apart.

Perhaps it was just the paleness of her flesh, a shocky whiteness that was the norm after illness. But Lenalee realized that she resembled nothing but a doll, with such refined facial details that entire paintings could be dedicated to portraying such an innocent-appearing countenance. But nothing could ever capture such fragility, so mismatched when compared to the raw ferocity of the akuma the younger exorcist battled on a daily basis.

If Cross had been in the slightest correct about the dubious character of Order's less…_honorable_ motives regarding Allen Walker and the prophecy, she was really nothing more than a carefully-dressed doll set up on a pedestal.

Her heart broke once more, but this time not for herself- as much as Lenalee wanted to, she could not stay angry. She could not be angry at this poor, pathetic little thing that had been reduced to something like that merely because of fate and circumstance. She could not be angry at what this little girl had done to herself because she had to, and because she had a greater purpose that nobody else, not even Lenalee, recognized.

"Ohh- I don't look so good, do I…" Allen said unhappily in front of her, fingers picking nervously away, wearing and tearing and ripping with slender fingers at the front lapels of her dress shirt. "…Lenalee-don't cry-no, really, if my face scares you I'll put the makeup back on!"

"You look fine." Lenalee forced herself to hiccup. "You look fine. But why-"

She cut herself off. Cross had said that Allen did not need to know anything. Was a human life of a person worth so little that the order would toy with it and manipulate it like that?-More and more, she was finding his darkly intoned words to be true. She saw it in the destruction of the order, had seen it manifest in the mob of the city that did not want the Order, although it was a necessary evil. But she had never seen the Order as Evil in the first place.

Allen had always tried to protect her (with Kanda it was chauvinism, with Allen she had wrote it off as just being sweet), and she had appreciated it. But now, she wouldn't want anything to harm this Allen who would never be male or female to her, but merely an exorcist.

And then Allen began laughing, causing the entire moment to feel somewhat…anticlimactic, nearly silly.

The British exorcist's laugh was frighteningly more of a giggle, almost delighted and girlish and completely unrestrained.

"What's so funny?" Lenalee demanded, now somewhat concerned for her friend's sanity as well as well-being. "You're still running a fever, aren't you?"

"…No. No. I'm fine." The other female exorcist giggled, even as Lenalee registered with a scowl the unnatural blush on pale cheekbones that was too deep for mere embarrassment. "It's just that-it's just that it feels good."

"Eh?!"

"It feels just so relaxing to me that you know, and that I can finally show you my face. The air- it's in direct contact with my skin, with no powder acting as a buffer.."

"I see." Lenalee said, noting not only the physical differences, but also a subtle change in behavior. Allen had reverted to a more feminine way of sitting with her legs closed together instead of splayed out all over the place."What is it like?" She added tentatively. "To...be a man."

"It's not strange anymore, although I can't exactly say I can identify myself with them, like Master or Lavi or Kanda." Allen said soberly. "I wouldn't say it's very comfortable, but it's a lot less restricting when it comes to social norms and behavior and of course, dress. Expectations, however, are a completely different thing."

To act like a man so long, to emulate the behavior of a gender that would have been so foreign to a young child, and even to take on such a appearance even when it was going against all feminine ideals that all of womanhood took their pride in- it wasn't easy. Allen's smile was wide and brilliant, injected with a glee that Lenalee was almost surprised to see on the normally proper and shy exorcist. Had she known that The Destroyer of Time could smile like that, the Chinese exorcist would have wanted to find out sooner.


	44. New Mission

Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray Man, it belongs to Hoshino Katsura.

A/N: Tried something new- narrative shuffling, a 'la The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi style. Didn't work out like I wanted it, though.Although it does allow for different pov using. I can't wait til the plot develops to when Allen's secret's out and I can use omniescent pov.

And for those who are a little confused about the new mission introduced, refer to ch 36 'Variable.' Since Cross does a much better explanation there. And yes, this is a feeble cliched approach to developing romance among the characters. I had so much fun writing this ch, especially Lavi finding about Bookman's betrayal and Kanda's pov.

Please drop a review, if you have the time.

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Ch 44.

New Mission

_Stephansdom; Vienna_

_11:45 AM_

Lavi pov:

….It had begun like any other mission brief, except that it was in a different location that was far away from Komui's office in the ruins of the tower.

It was only that the Bookman was not present, and there were more generals than he was accustomed to seeing in any one vicinity. Nine, Tiedeur, and then the elusive pervert of a slacker, Cross. If the normally absent Cross was called to duty, there was a high possibility that a high-priority mission was to ensue.

Bigger than that raid a month or two ago in Berlin, where he and the Bookman had discovered the skull with a blood-inscribed threat to the Order, warning them that they would get the 'Destroyer of Time.'

Then again, it wouldn't be surprising for Cross to pop up if his kid student was concerned, even if the man had never showed a concern for his welfare before.

Meetings and missions continued on, and still Lavi could not understand why everything proceeded on normally.

Bookman had left them, but only he knew, and only he was concerned at all as everyone else had yet to be enlightened of such a catastrophic matter. Lavi was not looking forward to the inevitable explanation, which would have to be composed of nine parts falsehood and one part truth, especially under the circumstances and reasons the Bookman had disappeared.

Quite frankly speaking, deserting and defection were crimes that were payable only in blood, by decree of the highest order of clergy. Lavi had heard bits here and there about a certain case years ago that Bookman had previously mentioned in passing- a scientist brought to court, supposedly for a transgression on his part, something having to do with the research being conducted at the time….

The only reason he was able to recall it so quickly from his extensive mental archive was because the unfortunate traitor bore the same surname as Allen Walker.

Although Lavi's attentions at the moment were three-fourths occupied by the brewing pestilence in front of his eye, in the form of one Allen Walker and one Kanda Yuu.

Whom were both staring at Chief Komui with something akin to horror and objection in their dumbstruck expressions, having been informed not a minute ago of their next mission.

Komui was certainly on a roll with his characteristically sadistic brand of humor.

"Whaaaa?! Why? And of all people why _him_?! I_ refuse_ to do this!" Allen had yelped in a surprisingly vocal display of insubordination, with eyes wider than dinner plates, immediately leaping out of his chair and knocking over his chair in the hasty process. "Please, please, _please_ place me on another mission instead!"

"You are an exorcist, and you will have to take whatever mission that the Order assigns you." Komui said sternly, the words accompanied with a timely wicked glint from his glasses. "Surely you are capable of taking an undercover mission? Subterfuge shouldn't be all that hard- all you need to do is socialize with women and gather information. It might even be _fun, _for a boy your age."

The poor lad looked as if he earnestly desired to jump off the proverbial cliff than to submit to such a…unappealing fate, to say the least. "And why such a… disguise? I understand very well that it's…_subterfuge_…but to dress like a _girl_, me?!"

Lavi twirled his mallet between his fingers, giving the impression of nonchalance. No doubt the poor laddie buck was adverse to having his masculinity compromised, although he had previously disclosed to Lavi that Cross had made him perform several just as unsavory tasks before like mucking out stinking stables.

Surely one would think that repetition would eventually breed resignation- but who was Lavi, rebel at heart and against duty, to say?

What a memorable outburst, Lavi thought with a hint of chagrin, considering that Allen was normally soft-spoken and a bit on the shy side. Although admittedly being sick and frustrated at being so weak could have gotten a rise out of nearly anyone, especially a person like Allen who detested vulnerability- even more than Kanda. Kanda hated it in other people. Allen just hated it in himself, and there was certainly no fiercer critic than the inner voice you had to live with every day.

Lavi would know.

Perhaps he would better step back and reevaluate Allen once more before editing the first drafts of his first recorded volume of histories. After all, it would have been nothing short of disgrace for a Bookman to be at fault in describing people as they in all actuality were- as if Lavi himself was not enough of a disgrace already…

"Please, Chief Komui…"

(Lenalee sighed, and Lavi speculated on her strange expression. Oddly, it looked more like mirth at Allen's predicament than the annoyance towards her brother he had anticipated.)

"Calm down, calm down." Komui said evilly, and Lavi wondered if this mission the scientist was forcing upon Allen was nothing more than vengeance for stealing his beloved Lenalee-chan's heart. "I_assure_ you, you will not be requested to fight in a dress unless the circumstances are dire- that'd be Kanda's job instead, although that's not the only reason he's accompanying you to England…."

Trust Komui to exacerbate the situation to aggravatingly worrisome heights, by tossing Kanda into the mix of exasperations.

"That's a problem! I refuse to do this mission with _him_- to pose as a…as a…aah, noooo…" Allen groaned aloud and buried his burning face in his hands, apparently too embarrassed to even voice it aloud.

"Be a man,"-Hiccup!-"Wimdit disciple."

"We can't expect any less of one of our capable exorcists, could we?" Komui warbled. "Be a _chap_, or whatever it is they call it in Bristol…"

("Um, p-p-perhaps it might be…better? Not to antagonize Allen-kun anymore." Miranda trilled nervously from a careful distance on the sidelines.)

From an observer's point of view, Lavi could clearly see that the British boy's sense of propriety and pride was rapidly being stomped on.

("Komui's sore because Allen captured Lenalee's heart." River maintained solemnly. "Of course he's going to antagonize him.")

"Chieefff! MASTER!!!!!"

To Lavi's keen eye, the crimson upon the younger boy's small face was more than just fever.

"Close your mouth- it looks absolutely uncouth for a lady to display her teeth. You'd look beautiful in a dress, Allen-chan. You'd look like a radiant newlywed woman." Cross, who was as usual drinking and smoking a pipe, remarked through the thick, nearly opaque clouds of smoke that curled around his face. "And it's the perfect mission for you because of your poker skills- of lack of thereof, considering how much you cheat."

"I knew I picked the perfect candidates to undertake this mission." Komui preened from his seat, clutching his bunny mug protectively. "As long as it weren't my dear Lenalee….."

("Like River said…" Johnny remarked helplessly. "The Chief's insane.")

Lavi didn't know that Allen's fair European skin could turn such an interesting dark shade of puce.

"Come now, Allen, it can't be so bad can't it?" Lenalee pleaded with what apparently was a nervous giggle that sounded too high, too awkward to Lavi's notice. "All you two need to do is to work_together_ to infiltrate an aristocratic gambling ring. It's only a cover to appear by. It's not so- oh, don't you start as well, Kanda Yuu!"

And then simultaneously as she spoke there was the swift sound of the click of Kanda's twitching thumb on Mugen's tsuba, and then the sharpened steel being unsheathed and pointed in the Chief Scientist's general direction.

"I refuse to work together with him!" Both irate male exorcists roared at a squeaking Komui Lee, as they edged away from the other. Allen glowered at Kanda, who scowled back. Lavi bit back a chuckle.

("See, they already bicker and agree like old marrieds." River was saying to Miranda. "I don't think they'll have any trouble- well Allen might, with the disguise and all...")

Lavi forced a smirk upon his face as he watched the British exorcist yell at his master, darting him a long glare that was nearly accusing. And then he invocated his parasitic innocence, stalking towards the other side of the room where Komui sat.

"I call first dibs on that sis-con." Kanda growled at Allen, as the younger exorcist stopped in mid-prowl to glare at him as well with stormy blue eyes.

"Once you're done, I get to string up his remains up on the Stephansdom's South Tower as an example, then." Allen all but purred through clenched teeth, flexing the muscles in his oversized arm, even as Timcanpi tugged warningly at his shirt sleeve.

"There'll be nothing left after I'm finished with him, Beansprout, so don't bother entertaining that thought." Kanda returned darkly. "And I'd never lower myself to work with an insignificant weakling like you."

"No more weak than you are." Allen retorted. 'I don't like working with you either, you insignificant heartless bastard."

"Exactly."

Allen's expression turned nearly predatory, reminiscent of his master's in Lavi's opinion. "You just agreed with me that you were an insignificant heartless bastard, Bakanda." He returned mildly, unceremoniously letting the insult hang in the air just like that.

Cross howled with raucous laughter. "He's got you there, and he's an idiot himself."

"Master!!!"

Allen's head made painful acquaintance with the wall countless times as he seemingly attempted to end his own humiliation and his own life.

"Saa…at the very least I'm not the one who going to be pretending to be a _girl_ on the mission, brat." Predictably, Kanda was somewhat incensed at the comeback to snarl one of his own.

"Oooh, low blow- everyone run for the hills!" Lavi yelped, calling out a warning for everyone in the vicinity and diving for cover as Allen colored swiftly at Kanda's smug retort.

However, the dreaded impact of Allen's claw on Kanda's Mugen never arrived, and Lavi stared out from under the couch in shock. Allen Walker was smiling, almost prettily, at the stunned swordsman who he so despised. Such a cavalier attitude was to be distrusted, and lo and behold Allen proved him right.

It made the young Bookman's skin turn into gooseflesh, seeing such a sweet smile….suddenly turn poisonous and cloying, like some tainted nectar. Lavi swallowed hard. Linali, who had joined him in the sadly large space under the coach, was looking on in horror, muttering something that sounded vaguely like idle threats to her brother's person for placing two such volatile exorcists on the same team.

"I may be the one pretending to be a girl on this mission," Allen stated coolly through clenched teeth and a smile that looked painful, coming as close to a vocal snarl as Lavi had ever heard from him. "But remember, we're posing as a _married couple_. Be a gentleman,_Yuu-kun_-that's the very least you can do for your pretend sweetheart, can't you?"

Allen was anything but the sweet polite exorcist that he normally was, when he was on the warpath.

Cloud Nine stifled a smile. Tiedeur's face broke out in a wrinkled, genuinely amused paternal grin. Cross howled in laughter, the only thing that he seemed to be capable of at the moment considering how he was half-inebriated.

A murderous look of bloodlust was already glazing and taking over the Japanese swordsman's dark eyes. Allen did not flinch away from the obvious challenge- the young Bookman had the feeling that a half-day of remaining bedridden while there was a battle outside tended to do that to an exorcist.

"…Already whipped." Lavi whispered, despite his lack of frivolous mood. Mr. Rock's cool and dead and at the moment, insignificant, weight within the depths of his endless pockets was not reassuring him in any way that he wasn't more alone than before.

Kanda sputtered wordlessly, and lunged.

Much to the horror of everyone else other than the incorrigible Cross.

"We can only wait for the bloodbath to end." Lavi told Lenalee somberly from their unsatisfactorily easily-destructible refuge under the couch. "I put money on neither of them winning, 'cause General Tiedeur would force them apart."

"I don't bet on things like this- they're both our friends, Lavi." Lenalee hissed back, looking somewhat affronted. "But if anything, I would say that it'd be General Cross breaking up the fight because General Tiedeur wouldn't lay a hand on younger subordinates."

They're our friends.

Our. Friends. Two singular words that Lenalee would never knew mattered so much, even as absently and jokingly she had remarked them under the pressure of greater, more current pressing concerns-

His eye widened. "No, Beansprout! Don't come in this direction! Not here-ah-"

- Like getting out of the way before Kanda smashed the church property to bits. Lavi and Lenalee only narrowly missed being struck by the flying splintery remnant of the couch they had taken cover under as Allen evaded the blow performed a surprisingly flawless handspring to land in a crouch some distance away. While Lavi was glad that Allen had dodged, not having Allen there to deflect the blow to the couch had nearly cost him three of his nine lives.

"Allen- your injury-" Lenalee started to call out, before Lavi dragged her out of the way as a chair flew in their general direction.

And as chaos ensued, and General Cross laughed his Godforsaken empty head off (Lavi didn't like him very much) and Komui cowered (a good enbu kirikaze from his imouto darling would be going too easy on him) and Tiedeur (God bless him) and Cloud 9's monkey-familiar-thing tried to separate the feuding duo, Lavi groaned.

The Earl was going to burst a gasket laughing at this (but wouldn't die from it, unfortunately).

Normally undercover missions were few and far in between, and consisted of sending exorcists instead of finders to scope out the predicament in a more unstable area that bore particular wariness or the Order was unfamiliar with or if Finders failed in the investigation.

Good God- both Kanda and Allen would no doubt die of mortification. It was a simple, if somewhat delicate mission: sending two capable exorcists undercover the guise of a newly-wedded-couple-cum-merchants-looking-to-make-a-killing into the London aristocratic scene to investigate a supposedly Noah-run gambling ring that was funding an oligopoly in the working class factories.

And while that wasn't a bad thing, he wished that Bookman hadn't placed him inside the tangled web of the Order infrastructure as an undercover spy.

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9:20 AM _Three hours earlier:_

Lavi could not ascertain just why his reaction had been so uncharacteristically violent.

The receiver, so cold and heavy where it was cradled against Lavi's ear, pressed so tightly as if not to let any of the Bookman's raspy words float out and be lost to the knowledge of all.

He'd keep this conversation secret, if only because he couldn't tell them all. Could never say it aloud to Kanda, to Lenalee, to Allen, to Komui, to River and Hevlaska and Johnny and Chief Jerry and all those characters out of a historical archive who had populated his life and made it colorful.

Colors all, Lenalee a warm pretty pink and Kanda jet-black and Allen baby-blue and so many colors that could never be expressed in sterile black ink on white paper, could never come alive in words when they passed on and the only remnants of them fighting the good fight was in books only.

"…You're telling me to betray them." Lavi whispered disbelievingly into the golem-phone.

Lavi had thought that he would receive such information with the serene if stonily cool acceptance that he had always been cultivating in prior anticipation of such a day, if it ever became necessary. But he hadn't considered that the recent occurrences would have left him so strained and tired and possessive of his established place in the world- the order- that everything merely fled from his mind.

Lavi rejected reason. He rejected the arguments that he had already had on the tip of his tongue- had always been on the tip of his tongue ever since the Bookman had told him that he shouldn't be too attached to anything or anyone.

"-Lavi, we Bookmen-"

"-Gramps, you're telling me to _fucking betray_ them!"

The dawn had risen upon the night; However, alas, it was not the reprieve he had expected and wanted, but rather an entire new series of circumstances that were less than favorable both to himself and what he believed in.

Perhaps it had always lurked in the back of his mind- that possibility, that knowing strain of darkness that haunted his past and his deepest dreams. That sheer knowledge that someday he would have to convert into a full-fledged, heartless figure of responsibility hadn't weighed so heavily at first. Lavi had figured that the strain and the burden would be less on his body than his mind, and he couldn't even rely on the comforting feel of vellum and paper to keep him sane.

"You're-"

"-Lavi! St-"

"-No! You've went and-"

_First thing off: maintain __**calm**__, or you've lost the argument already. _

"-Lavi, you've sworn you allegiance and-"

"-Why now? Why ever? Why the Earl-"

How was he expected to make such a commitment when his nature as a Bookman cried against it, tugging at his conscience and all the rotted relationships that he had so carefully forged and had netted himself into as an inextricable piece?

"-LAVI!" Bookman's voice was cold and stern, all of the emotionless rigidness easily transmitting itself over the phone in crackling static. "As Bookmen, we have no hearts and we do not concern ourselves with the fate of any given party in history-"

Calm. Calm! _**Appeal**__ to the Bookman's scholarly senses and sympathy for a fellow academic. _

"It's not only a party or faction or division or any other human-created euphemism for a splinter group since it's so much bigger than that. It's a bunch of _people_. That faction- it has the people I fought so hard to protect, worked so hard to know and gather _information_ on! Gramps! I've worked so hard so that I can write about them, and now this! Has everything that I worked for now been a waste?!" And indeed, the lattermost part was the last thing upon his mind, but it was a convoluted excuse that was worthy of a- his lower lip twisted in a sneer- bookman.

His loyalty had been no fabrication, nor just a role anymore for him to play, not anymore it was not. Information?- It was only an excuse to indulge his human side as selfish as it sounded. It had been no invention of his second mind of the Bookman, and it certainly was no man-made illusion that caused anger to leak into his consciousness at the mere thought of having what he strived for ripped away.

"The Earl could give us more than we can hope for." Lavi restated, taking a few deep breaths to regroup his scattered thoughts.

_Keep talking. __**Filibuster**_ _Delay the moment to make your logic resound more deeply._ You're going strong, he told his own weakening will. To create an opportunity to counter the situation, some smooth talking was required. But he could only feebly grasp mid-air at bits and pieces here and there of a punctured argument that he could only form within his mind.

"The Earl can give us the lives that were _ours_ in the first place- it's only that he would let us keep them." Lavi said slowly, not wanting to confuse the particular trail of thought he was descending on. "The Earl can give us the world on a silver platter, and he dangles countless millenniums of possibilities to be archived-"

_**Restate**__ the goal, to confirm bluntly the absurdity of it all. Proof by showing how silly it all sounds in real life-_

"Lavi, I fail to see what you intend to achieve by stating the obvious."

"-right in front of our fucking noses as if we were no more than wild beasts to be tamed. Or even domesticated, dumb brutes to be lured so easily in by a vice that would transgress morality. How can we do this?"

"We always end up living with only ourselves to hold our judgment accountable, Lavi. We are but Bookmen."

_**Support**__ the statement with a reason, preferably already time-established. _

"_But_!" Wrenching itself deeper into his gut like salt pressed into a chafed wound. "As if we are just only, merely, and just Bookmen whom are doomed like everyone else to live and die under the rule of a tyrant- history repeats itself!"

"-Lavi."

"-And I'd rather have it like_ that_ than any other way, Panda-jiji. Surely our knowledge could be put to greater use than filling up shelves that nobody will ever touch again- Wouldn't you say that selfishly allying ourselves with a madman would be more of a circumspect decision that is rashly made? Don't you think that it completely contradicts our purpose as Bookmen? To take history as ours and ours alone, and not share it with the populace?"

"You're too much of a populist, Lavi. Our intentions are nebulous. Our goal even more vague, if possible. We have existed since history began."

_Don't make the argument a personal thing. Make it __**logical and reasonable**_

"Isn't it contradicting our own origins? That we advocate the ending of history- you do realize, Jiji, that there won't be any human history even left to record once that fatty marshmallow of an Earl is finished with screwing us over?"

"We're bookmen, Lavi."

It always boiled back down to the root, the core, the undiluted base of everything- that one singular phrase and reason.

The redhead tasted the bittersweet tang of irony on his tongue, in experiencing for the first time personally that the people who were supposedly the freest thinkers in the world were the ones whom had to conform the most- namely, those who saw the wars and wrote the scrolls and then died as

It had become over time: _whom_ he strived for, whom were all people that had become dear even by the very liberal interpretations of a heartless being in the sad role of outsider.

Not what he worked for- Lavi could have cared less for the history than he did for the present: For Kanda Yuu, Lenalee Li, and all those countless others who would never be nameless in the annals of history.

They would never go unmentioned, would never go unmourned and uncried for because in the end that was what Lavi _would_ be able to do for them, would grieve for them because he had to pick up the broken pieces as The Bookman, and then shut them carefully away in the annals of time and ink and tomes and tomes.

"They are not your friends- I have tolerated your petty connections long enough for us to gain what we need for our research. We have a better opportunity, given to us by the-"

_Know when to give up-_ Lavi ignored that.

"BY THE _ENEMY_, GRAMPS!"

"-The Earl is no longer our enemy. We bookmen have affiliated ourselves with him."

"For what? So that we can be one big happy family, we can live this out and he wouldn't kill us and we could go on to write many, many, many more books on people who are going to be dead because of him?!" His voice had risen to such a pitch and volume that it had cracked on him; Lavi slumped against the wall, the receiver still pressed unrelentingly against his ear.

"Lavi-"

_At the very last, if you can't do anything else: appeal to a human emotion. _

"_They're_ not the same people anymore- they're not the same on a page- they're alive now and I've met them, and nothing can ever be written of what we've shared!" Lavi snapped bitterly. "Doesn't it count for anything- the eight, nine years?"

_Could he capture Yuu Kanda's one soft spot for his beloved morning soba? _

_Could he make readers interact, truly interact, with the many finders and listen to their talk and gossip after hours? _

_Could he cause people to imagine to the point of feeling the obligatory fear when Komui's heinous Komurin the Nth was demolishing the order?_

_Could he put down in useless syllables of human communication the feel of his own blood on his hands; nyoibo long and heavy in his palms; the quivering of his heart every time he looked at a fellow exorcist when he knew that they were going to die anyway?_

Lavi could never. Words never accounted for anything.

"Nothing counts for anything, Lavi. The Earl made us an offer that we can't turn down. He is willing to give us everything in history, being the Millennium Earl that he is. I expect you to understand, if all my years of drumming knowledge into your skull has turned out well."

"And that's more important to you than saving the people who can create history- didn't you say that you were interested in the Destroyer of Time?" Lavi protested, deciding to appeal to the Bookman's scholarly senses. "We would be better off following the Dark Order."

"Aah. Perhaps."

"That's right, Gramps!" Lavi persisted. "So don't do the…deal, or whatever it is…or…" Lavi stopped.

A sudden thought that he had carelessly overlooked struck itself like lightning into his mind, something which by all reason shouldn't have eluded him if he had not been forced into such a panicked state by the Bookman's revelation concerning their future roles. "Gramps, is someone- the Earl or one of the Noahs- near you? If you can't speak freely, just say a yes or no to what I say."

"…No. The Earl has given me remarkably free rein, if I am to believe his telling me that he allowed his allies to do as they please inasmuch as they do not directly defy his orders. Which explains Tyki Mick's habits of wandering blended within the common populaces in his spare time."

"Eh?" Lavi was immediately suspicious. "Sounds really…_iffy_, y'know…"

Of course, any self-respecting scholar would be entitled to doubt and uneasy deliberation, as knowledge brought with it a sense of paranoia that no book afterwards could ever beat out. Reason was far too powerful, and Lavi indulged in the occasional theory once in a while.

"I am trusted, to an extent. Besides, there is little we could possibly do against the Earl's forces, loathe as I am to admit."

"…Anything within our power is insufficient, eh?" The redhead grumbled. "In other words, they don't see you-us- as a threat."

"I would rather not appear as a threat to an ally."

"There you go again Jiji with that ally stuff. Do we really have to go over that again?"

"You're right, Lavi. The Destroyer of Time and the natural progression of events from the Order's side is something that is relevant."

It had not occurred to the Bookman-in-training to be upon his guard considering how easily his mentor had seemingly given in, and needless to say all previously training with said mentor should have already offered him the deduction of the conclusion that the Bookman never gave any ground.

"So that means-"

"That is right, Lavi." Bookman's voice was strangely soft. "_You_ will be the Bookman investigating the Order."

Holy. Fucking. Shit. As a cruder person would have blurted right out on the spot in response to such sudden revelation. It took a while for it to process, first.

It took all of five minutes of it to sink in, like poison into the marrow of his bones, shattering the day as he knew it and the life that he thought he had.

"Gramps?...You're kidding right?" Lavi stammered, with a nervous chuckle and a grin that Bookman couldn't see. "Man, I must be getting lax because I_swore_ I just heard you tell me to investigate the Order as a Bookman."

"You heard right, boy. You are a Bookman now."

"Whoa, Gramps- what are you talking about?" Lavi laughed nervously. "You're the Bookman, I'm just an apprentice. I can't do anything on my own, I can't-"

"Lavi. _Shut up_."

Lavi obediently obliged, startled by such a harsh tone.

"You _will_ become Bookman and you_ will_ do it without complaint- I hereby initiate you into the ranks of the Bookmen, to investigate the hidden history of men." The Bookman rasped from the other side of the connection. "You _will_ investigate the Dark Order- I turn all my research over to you to complete, on Mana Walker and the Destroyer of Time and Grave of Maria and Kanda's lotus and the countless details that you will refine yourself and compile into your greatest work."

Lavi hadn't expected it to be like this. He had long reconciled himself with the fact that there would be no pomp and ceremony and celebration with induction, and only trappings of blood and the cruel unforgiving light of unbiased and silent observation, the inductee having been reduced to be nothing more than a fucking observer for the rest of eternity- but dammit.

Damn it all. It wasn't supposed to be like this, becoming a bookman.

"Gramps- don't joke around like this- how about _you_? What will you do?" Needless to say, Lavi was less than ecstatic on such a promotion. It had dropped like a heavy stone, crushing his heart with so much added weight- and it was strange to think that ten years ago he would have accepted the role with glee as his rightful award.

It wasn't right anymore; It was no longer the role that he was so enamored with at the tender age of eight; It wasn't what he had thought it to be and he couldn't even remember why he had wanted to be a Bookman anyhow, since it didn't seem as if he remembered ever having a say in the matter.

"You've ensured what I thought I've always wanted, to stay in the order an' all. But what are you going to do?" Lavi roared into the receiver. "It's a cruel mercy- I know you're making me stay there and I appreciate it. But how about you?"

He was to be successor- 'nuff said, and he wasn't aware that there was any other alternative if he had even wanted any other.

"…Do not worry about me, Lavi. Worry about what you will do as Bookman." Bookman was saying. "We are no longer master and disciple anymore."

"No," Lavi found himself saying. "Not master and disciple anymore. Colleagues."  
"Not only that."

Lavi could nearly hear that rare, crinkly smile that he'd come to appreciate for all its scarcity and the approval that it showed.

"Not just colleagues. You will be my eyes and my ears in the Order, and I for you in the Earl's group." Bookman said. "Together, we are to restore the balance- so many years have we supported the Order. We must right that once more- another eight years with the Earl."

"-Bookman!"

"Is this not what you wanted? To stay by your friend's side? You can still take advantage of your connections to gather information."

Ach, he knew that fronting a reason that he never believed in would come back to bite him in the ass someday.

"You're asking me to be a goddamned spy!"

He regretted the swearing once it was halfways out of his traitorous, fat mouth. For that was the best way, with no necessary words minced, that Lavi could say with all his extensive vocabulary.

"Ordering you, Lavi. Technically, I am still your superior in the ranks of our profession- you adhere to my command, still."

"Not like this, Gramps! I want to truly be their comrade- not a false one only there but also-I can't do this-"

"You are a Bookman, and you will cooperate for a greater cause than your own petty concerns, and you will do this now. I have faith in your abilities to investigate, and to obey our own tenements as Bookmen."

Faith in him? Well, Lavi thought grimly, that made one of them.

"Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence. Are you _sure_ you don't want to reconsider your decision of being a traitor?"

Sarcasm was heavy on his tongue. But Lavi knew that it was irrational, that he should have seen it coming a mile away and dammit he was not supposed to be angry and frustrated at something that was only the natural order of things.

"Breathe, Lavi. Meditate on this."

Two breaths in, he nearly asphyxiated on his own sputters since his anger never dissipated and only carried over into his breathing.

Calm. He forced it upon his face in a poor parody of his one-time mentor's stern face, something that any self-respecting Bookman should have been able to achieve.

"I'm sorry." Lavi said contritely. "I understand- I truly do- it's just that I would have rather-"

And he did understand, did understand that he was being selfish and unreasonable in the face of necessity.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, boy. I know you never wanted something like this. And in the end you're still betraying yourself." Bookman told him gruffly.

"No. Thank you. For telling me- it must have been hard, huh."

Lavi was sure as hell that the first thing that he did as a bookman was not to walk away from his mentor with both of them angry. He would not regret parting like this.

It still felt anticlimactic as an hour later Bookman- the older man would always be_the_ Bookman to him- finally saw fit to hang up. But not before curtly ordering- deliberately ordering him like he was still an underling to return to the Stephansdom before a general (what the hell were they doing in Vienna anyhow?) or another of his fellow exorcists came to back him up.

It wasn't as if Lavi really minded a return to the status quo, even if he was now a full-fledged bookman.

_Know when to __**give up**__, and retaliate later. _

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12:01 AM

Lavi pov:

….And that was exactly how the redhead had found himself hours later wondering- not without a languishing remainder of his former bitterness-just how he was going to explain everything to his comrades.

"Lavi, are you alright?"

"Eh?" Startled, Lavi found Lenalee a embarrassingly tiny distance away from his face, so close that he could easily feel out the soft, unmistakably feminine mounds of flesh pressed just barely against his chest…At any other given time he would have blushed, but that would have been incriminating enough for Komui to set Komurin the Nth on him.

"You looked deep in thought." Lenalee told him quietly.

"Don't space out." Said siscon told him sternly. "Allen and Kanda are not the only people who are on this mission."

Lavi cursed himself for not paying attention, and for letting other thoughts draw him away at what was important- it was unprofessional of him. "I apologize for my lack of attention." He stated.

Mistake number two, and all in the span of three minutes: he hadn't realized how mechanical that sounded, and even Miranda was shooting strange looks at him.

Apparently during his mental absence, the room had gotten itself into some semblance of its former order. Kanda was on one side of the room, looking as if he wanted to skewer just about any unfortunate fool who dared approach him. The back of Allen's collar was gripped, almost lazily, by his deadbeat Master.

"What did I say before about controlling yourself?" Lavi's ears nearly swiveled at hearing Cross's soft discrete whisper into his disciple's ear, the man apparently not as piss-drunk as he seemed. "So much for being ready for anything, eh?"

Allen's wince at the quiet rebuke was just as interesting in all its implications of what the young exorcist was thinking of in reaction, and the redhead just had to speculate upon what had happened during his absence at the Stephansdom.

"…" Lenalee apparently was also privy to the little, barely noticeable interaction between master and student, and her lips pressed together in a firm line.

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11:00 AM

Kanda's pov:

"A gambling ring." Kanda stated frigidly, turning his attention to the mission Komui had been briefing them on and scanning over the neatly typed files that River had passed to him.

"That would be correct. In London." Komui said, putting his fingertips together and looking at him and Beansprout over the top of the interlocking structure of his fingers. "More specifically, we have heard reports of potential activity on the Noah family's part in the manipulation of the…aah, more _fortunate_ of social circles there- you do realize what I mean, don't you?"

"The Noahs- Tyki Mick." An angry, breathy little hiss from between clenched teeth from Allen, sounding a little strangled.

No doubt the boy was remembering the pitiful, almost humiliating near-loss on the train, those couple of rounds of poker with the golden-eyed spawn of evil.

"Come to think of it, we did meet him on the train…" Lavi was saying, but Kanda ignored the recount of the past occurrence in favor of gauging the Beansprout's reaction with a wary gaze.

Cerulean lighting- that was the only thing to describe the subject of his attention's eyes at the moment, had he thought fit to wax lyrical. Dark and stormy and promising a fight- the mention of a Noah was enough to cause such an effect.

"…More fortunate as in the type of unscrupulous person with power and money at his fingertips? The kind who can easily put entire years' worth of salary on the jackpot?" Allen was saying.

Kanda was nearly surprised to see the British exorcist's eyes narrowed slightly as if thinking- something that he thought him incapable of. His tired eyes were half hooded with long sweeps of lashes, the shadows that always lurked within the normally pale pupils making a startling appearance. If anything, he would say that the Beansprout looked as if he had had previous experience with such a situation, and considering that the kid was an insufferable gambler, that was only to be expected.

"As expected of our resident card shark." Kanda thought he heard Lavi mutter.

"That is right- the aristocrats." Komui said. "General Cross here has brought to our attention recently that a small conglomerate of wealthy, entrepreneurship-minded personages have been meeting for about a year or so to gamble, every few days."

"…That's a perfectly legal thing to do." Allen interjected. "Even of such a large scale…People won't be happy though…..unless-"

A widening of the already big eyes, like some thought forcing itself upon what Kanda thought a pretty feeble mind. Not that Kanda himself understood anything on this particular verse, though…

"-eh, perhaps I'm not…er…exactly…um…the best person to say this…but…" Allen was looking somewhat peevish right now. "…They were _cheating_, weren't they."

"Of course you would know what I was talking about." Komui beamed. Allen grimaced. "But the fact remains that while yes, while they seemed to gamble for sport, the point was to-"

"-make money in bulk, and fast. I don't think it's the fact that they're cheating that's the problem, but the fact that it's on an incredible scale." Allen said, disturbingly catching on easily and finishing the scientist's sentence.

"Involving so many people-and important jackasses all of them at that-calls for some watching." Cross said carelessly. "The more players the merrier, after all, and more people lose…."

"I assume they tag-team the other players, who are but individuals, with the intention of getting the jackpot and splitting it among themselves- that's quite common among confederates, come to think of it, but not on such a large extent that you're implying…perhaps the ring is run with a good bottom-dealer if it's cards and maybe collusion…."

Kanda had no idea what a damned confederate was.

And tag-teaming to him was a last-resort when it came to fighting akuma, to depend on one's teammate for back up. He could only assume the same for poker- or whatever they were talking about.

"…In other words they sucker people for money by working together to get all the cards they need and pass information to each other- one of them will probably wind up winning. So they're in effect working with each other against the rest of the players." Allen explained in layman's terms for the benefit of Lenalee and Miranda, whom were both apparently confused.

"That's unfair!" Lenalee voiced, the notion apparently an insult to her sense of propriety.

"Isn't it." Allen replied calmly. "For some strange reason, whenever I play they target_ me_."

"That's because you're a kid-"

"What is the motive for amassing so much money? I could hardly believe that greed would be a motivating factor for something like this- they'd try it with a smaller group, if they're looking for profit." Lavi cut in, sharp as ever.

"They'd try to rope in rounders- sorry, people who do the high stakes games- like me by offering large amounts in potential winnings, so they would need a lot of people anyway…." Allen said. "But what I don't get is why nobody realizes it."

"Che. People are stupid." Kanda told him, the only thing that he could contribute to a conversation that was over his head.

"The Noahs have a hand in this." Komui warned. "Most likely Tyki Mick, if General Cross is correct."

"There will be no flukes this time."

"Hmph. Your fluke was just that you didn't cheat properly and your ace slipped out of your back pocket." Kanda muttered drolly.

"That won't happen again." Allen retorted.

"…Now that we have confirmed that our own Allen will take preventive measures against such a future incident, maybe we can get down to the details?"

"Do, do." Cross interjected. "Damn it, I need a woman…"

"…All in all, this will be an undercover mission. The fragility of the relationships among the nobility, you see- we can't afford to start up a rivalry war among the higher classes in Britain, especially since many are influential in the economy and those who own trading companies will drag the colonies within Queen's empire into the conflict."

"Not to mention the fact that nobody's happy about the fact that the Exchange- stock market, I mean- is never good. Boom-bust-boom-bust-" Allen broke off, coughing a little. "-I'd believe that we're in the middle of a bust."

"Exactly. Economy sucks. Hookers aren't as cheap as they used to be." Cross declared. Kanda held back a disgusted grimace- must everything coming out of the general's mouth refer to sex in some way? "The brothels' prices go up-"

"-as does everything else's." Komui quickly finished. "In other words, Britain cannot sell everything that its bustling factories produce, simply because of inflation and the fact that few can afford them…"

"The division between rich and poor has always been a source of conflict over the ages."

Kanda snorted derisively at Lavi seemingly trying to make an attempt to assert his knowledge in the absence of his mentor.

"And that's exactly what's going on in London's slums- apart from the own conflicts within the rich-motherfucker-classes. They'd rather have fun gambling and throwing those _abhorrent_ dances than taking care of the poor that work in the factories. You need to treat a girl well if you want a good blowjob."

Cross's utter failure of an explanation to the poor uninformed souls whom were not so well versed in class dynamics was at the very least repulsive. Kanda wondered just how Allen ever learned anything from such a foul ignoramus of a master- nor did he really want to know what the brat had picked up.

Allen was right- the General was a perverse man-slut who whored around too indiscreetly for normal society to handle.

"Corruption within the higher classes, their own benefit eh?"

"To a degree, yes."

"So we do have to look out for what's happening on all levels of society." Allen reflected.

"Of course. And who do you think loses, idiot disciple, if the economy takes a direct hit?"

"At first glance, the owners of the Companies- primarily East British India shipping, or any of the suppliers of arsenal to the Americans if I'm not mistaken." The Beansprout returned with surprising ease and a startling display of what he already knew about the situation. But needless to say, the little punk was from Britain, and probably the slums considering his dubious origins.

"However, I'd scrap all that and directly say the problem would hit the _urban dwellers_ hardest, because they work in the factories for already what is terribly low pay, even for an uneducated worker. Can't get much on minimum wage- and that's only if you're lucky to have minimum wage- I of all people should know that."

Kanda found it strange, how Allen's voice dipped down low in a somber tone that was completely unlike his confident, _know-it-all_ tone before. But there was no accusatory blame directed in Cross's direction, and the Japanese exorcist knew, just knew that Allen of all people would have the most reasons to blame Cross.

"…I don't have any debts for you to pay off this time, _baka deshi_. Or rather, I won't make you since you'll be on a mission." Cross snapped sardonically into the ensuing silence. "I suppose you're still sulking about what I told you earlier, aren't you."

Allen's face was blank. Kanda racked his mind and it came up equally blank, although he told himself that he did not want to know nor did he have any business knowing what went on between the general and the idiot that made said idiot so sullen.

"Back to the gambling ring." Komui said bracingly. "It all boils down to the fact that it's an illegal way to make lots of money, fast, and is rigged so that the money will always wind up in the hands of the cheaters that collaborate with each other. They need a lot of money, especially because of the inflation. And it's not to host parties, either, contrary to popular belief. They're not twiddling their thumbs and commissioning fancy clothes all the time."

"-the money is used for capital: to buy up factories. You see, these rich assholes are buying out all the little factories, lay off the poor bastards working there, and win some more money, go back and buy more factories, yadda, yadda, ya-"

"In effect, they're creating an _oligopoly_."

"But I think that the oligopocky-"

"-_poly_-"

"Thank_you_ again, Tiedeur. I know- the oligopoly will end up becoming a _monopoly_."

Cross's eye flashed in fiery gold, as he reclined against the couch and put his head in Cloud Nine's lap. Kanda would never admit to not understanding the significance of the sentence the older exorcist had just said, since Lavi's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and even Miranda looked as if her interest had been piqued.

"You're saying that while the gambling ring- or rather, the amount of cheaters- needs to be big. But with so many people carefully coordinating their actions with each other to rig the games, there has to be a few masterminds deciding what to buy, even if all the money goes to buying out factories for all of them- since there's so many, none would suspect any the wiser that there's any organization."

So that was it. On the surface it appeared to be a competition of sorts, when there was a mutual intention for large-scale collaboration. And it just all melded together into a cohesive mess of corruption.

It was dishonorable.

When Lavi put it that way, it was easier to take in- Japanese politics among the samurai were not so convoluted and twisted, in Kanda's opinion. Bushido governed behavior and simplified everything to the length of a sword - half-remembered tenements, a lord's allegiance, and dripping blood from a deep slice in the gut.

"Che. So the gamblers will seek to kill each other to get all the power."

"When you put it that way…" Lenalee started, soft eyes hardening nearly imperceptibly. "…It sounds crude. As if they're only means to an end."

"That's right." Allen said. "It's not as if I haven't seen people working together like that, and then getting rid of each other just to get all the money that all of them worked so hard together to cheat for."

In context, that sounded just so wrong. Allen apparently realized it too, his face tinted with the slightest of embarrassed flushes, although his expression was defiant as if daring any higher-minded mortal to challenge him on that. Kanda expected no more from a compulsive gambler himself.

"Eh!- I didn't mean work hard- but cheating isn't exactly easy either, you know!" Allen protested, holding his hands up in submission. "-The only reason why I can do it so well is because of my hand."

Kanda could nearly hear the 'and necessity' left unsaid.

"Which makes you a perfect candidate for this mission. Your competency at gambling…ahem, cheating, was one of the most important factors that we'll be counting on, as well as your experience in your native land." Komui said. "Kanda'll also be on it."

"We…don't work well together." Kanda said stiffly.

Allen bobbed his head in acquiesce. "He's right. And he'll stick out worse than a sore thumb in Britain."

Komui coughed delicately. "That's another reason why he's accompanying you. The two of you will be posing as wealthy owners of a Trading Company specializing in trade in the Orient. And silk."

"Silk?"

"Asian silk is the finest, of course." Tiedeur said blithely. "Lately there's an Oriental trend going around the English court and the nobility, you see. Kimonos, lacquered porcelain…"

Kanda shot him a glare for merely speaking, not at all wanting to be reminded that his senile eccentric master was still around.

"So we're to infiltrate the gambling ring. As we will appear to be relatively wealthy entrepreneurs, we will probably be shuffled into the circle to gamble." Allen stated. "You're hoping that we do well enough and win enough to be seen as potential um, allies, in the ring by the aristocrats. And they'll invite us to share in their scheme of factory-buying because we'll be an asset to them with our cheating skills."

"Precisely. That is key- to get within the coalition of aristocrats and close to the ringleaders."

"An infiltration and destroy?"

"No. We absolutely _cannot_ meddle in England without first getting to the root of the problem, since it's somewhat delicate a matter and noninterference on the part of the clergy is better there. Then we target that part _solely_- we cannot uproot everything else in the process."

"Che."

"The two of you are to find out just what the factory-buying entails, by socializing with the other wealthy entrepreneurs." Komui said seriously. "We know of the consequences caused by this massive oligopoly, such as trouble for the urban workers and the plights of the smaller factories. And then, overproduction of the goods that nobody will want. But why? Why do this?"

"We believe that that Million-pound Earl is planning on doing something with the factories." Cross snorted. "We just don't know what, but we've all but confirmed that the Noahs have a hand in this, as they always do."

"You'll have to teach Kanda to play cards, Allen- can you also rig dice?" Komui said. "Card parlors aren't the only places, you see."

"Cards are my forte- I'm best at poker but I'll also do bridge or whist respectably. Dice are more of Master's specialty, though. And I can accomplish this mission _alone_."

"In your condition, brat?" Kanda snapped scornfully in response to the almost-slight, lips curling up in a sneer. "You got injured on the train and fell sick and couldn't even handle this one in Vienna! It wasn't as if you were needed anyhow."

"I don't need a confederate to back me up- my own skills are sufficient."

"Who's a backup?!"

"Allen, if you win too much on your own it completely defeats the purpose of collusion." Cross said. "There's a reason why the ring of people who are in on the cheating is so big- it's a dummy front to avoid suspicion. And you'll need to bet at horse racing, too…which you're awful at since you're an unlucky kid."

"Kanda won't be your accomplice in cheating all the time, Allen. You'll be infiltrating different groups most of the time."

"Different groups as in- rival companies, perhaps?" Allen asked, apparently puzzled. Mercurial Lavi with his understated brilliance looked at a loss as well.

"No. You see, the genius of the collaboration between these people lies in the fact that it's an extensive network of cheating. In other words- the gambling isn't limited to just any single game or even games. Different groups of people work together towards the same cause, supposedly. General Cross acquired most of his information not from implanting a mole, but rather from an…_acquaintance_ he had with a… landed heiress who used to run in the circles."

Kanda had a feeling that the acquaintance was more along the lines of liaison.

"To cut things short, you'll be playing with the women, idiot disciple. More specifically, the _wives and daughters_ of the industrial hot-shots."

Allen had gone deathly pale, and Kanda nearly thought that the brat was going to relapse and faint right on the spot.

"That's right, and your people-skills are better than Kanda's anyhow- The ladies are friendlier and chatter more and know everything about their husbands, including who they sleep with and what they're doing- they make it their business to know, women."

Allen looked ready to crawl into a corner and die.

"And_no_, you can't infiltrate the ladies' parlors in breeches. You'll need to act the part of a pretty, spoiled, sweet young slip of a girl from a noble family. And it's unattractive for young ladies to gape like that, you know, Allen."

The smirk on Komui's face was terrifyingly wide, and bespoke of more horrors lying in wait for Allen.

"I can easily do the mission as a man, too- wouldn't women be more open to a man?" Allen was arguing, blushing all the while.

"No- just their legs would." Cross snapped. "You're supposed to be one of them, a _confidante_. Men and women don't _talk_, you know. They-"

"-Basically Allen," Komui said quickly, cutting off Cross midway. "what he's saying is that as a woman you can get more information from gossip or whatever resources that you will utilize."

"- And men are also more open to a woman, too, idiot disciple-"

"- He means that you'll be more underestimated and thusly will be freer to move around."

"Why doesn't Straight-fringe here have to do that?" Allen grumbled.

"Unlike you, who probably hasn't even hit puberty yet, he's actually built like a man." Komui was saying. "And no, both of you can't be women because a male companion is always required for a lady..."

"Lord, spare me from inspired idiots." Kanda murmured in horror, the closest that he had came to praying in at least months.

He shuddered, remembered the revelation of unbearably intense eyes even when glazed in fever; unfittingly soft white skin; and a small, moist, half-parted mouth of a smooth pink. All of those disturbing qualities on one Allen Walker.

Yes, the pretty _image_ was certainly there as much as a detestation it was to recall and reflect on it, since Allen was one disturbingly soft-looking, girly-wimpy kid. Although he would rather rip his eyes out than see it manifest in full form in front of his eyes complete with stupid frilly dress and lace and ribbons.

Sometimes he pondered- no, he would never dignify the subject as something to ponder about, but rather to graze over once in a while- if the damned kid was bent in more ways than one of those soft American pretzels that he adored. Since there was definitely several wires crosses there in his deceptively fragile appearance.

The Beansprout as a pretty, spoiled, sweet…ugh. The Beansprout itself would just be an affront to either gender.

"…Don't think you get off easily, either, Kanda. Remember what I said about a male companion?…You're to play the role of her husband."

Kanda choked on his own breathing.

Allen stood up and knocked his chair over and continued to argue with an increasingly aggravated voice and tone.

Two minutes later, all hell broke loose.

The soft-hearted fool was certainly looking a little better if he had actually regained enough of his former health to avoid most of the long, sweeping arcs of Mugen's blade that Kanda had directed halfheartedly at his person.

Of course, he still looked like shit, but at the very least the kid wasn't unconscious anymore. Or limp and soft and so unbearably_ fragile_ in Kanda's arms that the Japanese exorcist could not help but to notice his...sissiness.

If that was the word, and a real one at that. Kanda couldn't bring himself to use the word 'attractive,' no matter how true it was and how magnified it had been that hour when he had actually reached out and caught Allen Walker as the feverish exorcist crumpled to the floor. It had to be the helplessness- the sakura were fragile and short-lived, and that was what made their beauty all the more worthwhile.

The mission was going to be hell, more for Allen than himself. While Allen fit the girly part disturbingly well, he was probably chafing like any self-respecting man was at the notion of having to stuff himself into the silky, lacy parachute of a _thing _they called a dress.

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Please rr as usual. And I have no idea when the next chapter is going to be updated, since I've been sorta losing interest in D. Gray lately- Gundam 00 (political intrigue ftw) and other animes have been eating my brain. I hope that this new development in the plot that I've been itching to write for so long will draw me back in though.


	45. The Melancholy of Allen Walker

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray man.

A/N: First thing off- to thank the many wonderful readers who reviewed. I was honestly astounded at just how many reviews came in last time- I really wasn't aware that the story had garnered so many readers and I'd really like to apologize about how I''ve been neglecting this story as of late...or rather not really as of late since it's been quite a while since the last update.

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Ch 45. The Melancholy of Allen Walker

It was a good couple of hours before when the transformation had begun.

Lenalee's covert operation to make her more of a lady was all very well meant, but the exorcist herself thought that her friend was a little too happy with the opportunity the mission presented to her as an excuse to dress her up.

_Rakuen._

Tyki's hint, his strong deadly human hands grazing and slipping through and into her snowy hair with a presence that was never there and Timcanpi picking up his blunt statement that he would be awaiting his next game with her.

Heavens, the horror of those bloodstained fingers even laying a single touch upon her rather not immaculate person.

Although it was somewhat belated and somewhat out of context, Allen really wanted shampoo and hot water at the moment, a need that seemed more imperative and pressing than tending to hunger cramps or the pain that stretched across the taut bruised musculature of her abdomen.

Perhaps the detailed account of the terrible situation in England was merely an incentive for them- especially her- to accomplish the mission, voiced in the most moving, emotive descriptions of oppression, sparing no small element. It provided a lull for her to delve deep within her own intentions, to aggregate them into some semblance of order and priority, and then act.

Because there was nothing, nothing like emotion and nothing like some arousing pathetic display of open suffering to bring up the all too familiar feelings of protectiveness- because this was her world and her sphere of influence and just because she could and because she should and because she needed to and because she cared that she would go the extra mile or two to protect the people that populated that sphere.

In addition, it had been a direct challenge from the Noah for her to go to England- and frankly speaking, she was not entirely sure of what it entailed, or if it was even reasonable for her to be openly walking right into a trap that was apparently set by an enemy. But the message had been relayed for her ears only, and its significance was tied too closely to her true identity as a girl, so even had she wanted to Allen would never tell Komui.

She wasn't so sanguine to hope for…. desired results even if all of heaven was on her side; Nor was the empathetic denial of her own vehement pride something to heed, even as it chafed under knowing that Tyki- that hideous, wretched man!- had been _baiting _her, trying to lure her to him with the petty offering of a challenge.

Allen had retained self-respect- a healthy enough amount of it, so as to say. However, Tyki of the Noahs was to the best of her knowledge (and Lavi's) the only one who understood duality with his black and white sides. However, he certainly didn't understand hers well enough if he had even so much as entertained the thought that her own sense of humanity came after her own wants as a human.

Objection had only been on her mind in the slightest of presences. However, she had her role to play- that of a boy. It would be nothing short of unnatural if she did not at the very least appear reluctant to have her non-existent masculinity compromised by such an undercover disguise.

"…And just _how_ do you expect me to pull this…_genderbending_ thing off? And with _him_ along for this loveless joyride, no less?" She hissed at Komui, after the scrutinizing and curious madding crowd had dispersed and there was only her, Kanda, the scientist and her _brute_ of a master remaining in the room.

Which incidentally had a few more holes than it originally had, holes that she and Kanda would no doubt have to take out of their salaries to pay for giving their mutually-committed destruction.

Allen snatched back her accusing finger directed at Kanda before the older exorcist had an opportunity to snap it off.

"I'm not expecting you to put on a frock and sashay into Buckingham palace tomorrow, if that is what you're apprehensive about. Although it's as simple as that, even giving the situation that the two of you will have to work around in the duration of up to half a year that we can afford." Komui told her coolly. "You of all people understand the circumstances better than anyone else, being native to England. You must understand that it's a very delicate procedure that could result in class warfare if the Noahs' gambling ring isn't stopped."

"The influx of money flow is grossly uneven and in one direction, and if you need any examples of what's wrong with that, just go ask bookman-apprentice-boy, idiot disciple."

It was like a ripple of water- one disturbance, one small factory toppled and a laborer was laid off whose wife was pregnant with their sixth kid who ended up being miscarried because there was no money to buy food that was rotten and spoiled anyhow because the farmers couldn't make enough produce to support the population simply because all the nearby land was being brought out by owners who would build bigger factories that would put the smaller corporations out of business and the vicious cycle would simply continue without end.

Just like the birth of akuma- death, grief, resurrection, death, grief, resurrection, et cetera et cetera.

"I understand that- no doubt the slums are an excellent place to breed akuma. Laborers in the urban city factories tend to have the highest mortality rates, after all." Allen returned darkly.

Mana had informed her a long time ago that in addition to everyday financial hardships, machines ate fingers and entire limbs, and factory byproducts like smoke and particle pollution strangled the life out of entire slums.

"Indeed. So don't you think a loss of dignity would be bearable when you think of the crisis?" Komui asked her, with a voice of steel. "Would putting on a dress be so awful, when you can be saving people by gathering intel? We need to know, Allen Walker. We need to find out what it wrong there and how we can fix it without disrupting the everyday occurrences in the country. And to do that you need to-"

"Don't go there. It would be selfish of me not to take on this responsibility, as an exorcist and as a British citizen." Allen told him quickly. "I don't think I'd forgive myself if I turned something of such a great magnitude down."

Gambling and talking to people was something that she could handle. The good-natured (mostly) ribbing from colleagues could be easily brushed off.

However, the simple ease of the way that image of a dressed up lady could be reconciled with the way that everyone presently saw her as could be particularly questionable by the keener of eye like Komui or Lavi or Bookman if the exorcist ever arrived.

The appearance of facial features was relatively simple to manipulate with cosmetics, and she could merely take off what she already used and kept the rudimentary powder and blush that all women used. However concealing the fact that she had a _real_ hourglass waist and breasts where they weren't supposed to be on a man certainly bore much more work…

Not even all the distracting embellishments of ruffles and lace trimmings could help her then.

"It's simple- just stuff some plush towels in the brassiere and put on makeup." Her master was muttering, no doubt with barefaced glee. "A hoop skirt will conceal everything else, just pray that nobody feels up-"

Kanda's eyes distinctly widened.

Komui choked and sputtered and dropped his clipboard on the floor, where it shattered and liberated the papers all over the place.

"Master!" Allen yowled, scandalized and flushing angrily and wishing ten thousand bolts of lightning to strike him dead on the spot, despite the fact that he would be a very dreadful akuma if he was called back by one of his many distraught girlfriends-or maybe all of them, if that was possible….

…_Was it?_ For a single dead person to be resurrected as many akuma, if there were many people wanting him back?

Allen tucked that thought away for future reference, hoping that Lavi would have somewhat a clue on it.

"That's a really good look." Cross said, the faintest hints of approval lacing his voice with velvet. "A little too innocent a blush, though."

Heat had risen to her face, the hot blood drumming against her ears and making it hard for her to think just how she could avoid the pitfalls of being found out as a girl who pretended to be a boy dressed up as a girl.

The string of protests lined up on her lips died away as she tried to warp her rather brittle and rather inflexible mind around the fact that for once, she would be allowed to be herself, truly herself.

Of course, there was only the necessity of not allowing anyone to find fault with or reason to doubt her in any way- and since she had been in the order long enough to shed the greenhorn reputation, identity was something that was already concrete enough so that would be the_last_ thing to suspect.

Now that brought her time and perhaps intervention or interruptions from Lenalee or even-though she wouldn't count on it- Master Cross at opportune times.

"At the very least a good place for your sentimentality is found- with the womenfolk." Kanda vocally voiced his unhappiness in form of an insult.

"The women that I know are the most courageous, strongest human beings I have ever had the fortune to meet in my life, who have greater hearts than anyone else- I would be proud to be called one of them. And women are capable of being exorcists, as well- not even you would insult the dark boots to Lenalee's face, would you?" She all but snapped at him.

"Kanda. Calm down and for heaven's sake don't bait him anymore." Komui said in a long-suffering tone. "Allen, you too- you're just trailing him, and not very good-naturedly I must add."

"-That's derogatory to innocence- and that concerns us all as _exorcists_, not morally redeeming members of society." Allen continued, deflecting the initial sting of her boss's rebuke with the recklessness that had suddenly seized her. "If sentimentality is the root of all those great attributes, so be it."

"Che."

"…If you found something to care about, maybe you might even become stronger?"

Kanda's glower, had it actually been a physical manifestation, would have literally skewered her on the spot. "…Fuck you, I don't care about people."

"- and you can go to hell." Allen suggested. "For not being an exorcist who is there for protecting the weak and the needy, and most of all, those in despair."

"-And as I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, the two of you will undergo intensive preparation before we send you off to London. Mainly regarding the people to watch out for, etiquette, and what especially to keep an eye on."

"And the dresses…" Cross said, taking a deep long draft of smoke.

Komui's expression frightened her to no end, nearly victorious and smug and contemplating on how his beloved sister-dearest would be put off by cross dressing guys.

Inwardly, the exorcist only could sigh and meekly grin and bear it, as there was a perfectly logical and perfectly necessary reason or _excuse_- the mission- for the scientist to inflict cruel ministrations upon her person…

…like partnering her up with an exorcist who possessed more temperamental issues than personality.

…And forcing her to do the mission in a dress. Which was not meant for fighting in, and which would no doubt force her to rely on her deadbeat partner.

Allen mentally retracted the 'deadbeat' portion, as Kanda was everything but a slouch when it came to impeccable mission record (his own) and efficiency, and more often than not he had more than his own to contribute towards a mission, inasmuch as he had no will nor impulse nor motivation to fight.

As welcome a change as it was, for her to openly display herself the way she had always been underneath the makeup and the coils of bandages and the exorcist's cloak two sizes two big: Was there really anything worth glimpsing there?

"….Silk….Wealthy family of an established lineage…rumors…" Cross was saying something that completely wafted off in the distracting currents of self-reflection and pensiveness.

Then the only difference during her mission would be the state of presence, in being sheathed in frills and ruffles and the unflatteringly wide cloth structures normal people called a dress and Kanda called a parachute- there was nothing there that she had not seen herself, the slender slips of bone and flesh that were hips and breasts and curves overall that belonged as much to the boy-Allen as to the girl-Allen, because deception was to both of them and she was all in all still that same little child so many years ago.

"…London…horse-racing. Sabotage…must teach Kanda hand-mucking….Tyki Mick is an expert shark….cannot underestimate just merely because…."

Abandoned twice, two identities, boy and girl, exorcist and akuma, life and death. The fabrication of what she stood for in all her deceit always came in doubles, in pairs that polarized her image to extreme extents. The messiah, the black and white parts of the supernatural powers that her body was imbued with either by curse or nature.

"…apparent, distinct similarities in physical features…at the train station…enough cause to warrant a genetic link, perhaps…."

What she was _was_ clear-cut, was hardened against opposition in the rigidity of its stance, while the human-Allen inside was not the messiah-Allen everyone was familiar with and demanded to uphold.

"…Edmund…easily mistaken for a long lost daughter…." Komui was murmuring nonsense.

But no, Allen did not see fit to inform him that no, she had never been a threat to his status as Lenalee's brother and needless to say never intended to be, ever.

"…And then there's that necklace thing that Timcanpi showed me off the video…"

"…Allen?"

Her eyes swam back into focus from the blank void of involved pondering that they were frequenting more and more lately to glimpse three identical stares.

"You see a resemblance, Kanda?"

"…A little." The exorcist muttered, looking very much disturbed and to good reason. "Only not blonde. And a bit more…._male_…"

He sounded rather unconvinced on the very last part, and Allen made a mental note to train harder, although previous attempts to develop noticeable musculature had all failed and continued tries were likely to go the same path.

"He'll dress up well." Komui reflected, face strangely unreadable and the only hints of something imperceptible panning across his features for only a single moment that Allen nearly failed to catch in her puzzlement.

"Why are you all staring at me like that?" She blurted out, feeling the intense attention that the men were lavishing upon her facial features. In accordance, she felt the blood rushing once again to her face.

"You weren't listening." Cross groaned, his forehead coming in contact with the palm of his hand with a heavy smack. "Idiot disciple. And here I was thinking that no outraged comment from you was too good to be true…"

In other words, she was going to be made to do something that she most likely would be less than happy to do, and coming from Cross that was a high distinction considering that he normally thought that she would handle anything and everything.

Perhaps something of a caliber that would be morally violating, or something along the lines to that effect- Allen had the gist of just what her master thought of her 'high-minded' sense of humanity.

"Apart from merely introducing yourself into English high society and fraternizing with greedy, cheating, gambling rich scoundrels, you two are to forge a close connection to the members within the ring."

"So we've been informed already." Allen murmured. "It's not as if I'll forget."

"Close connection. It means more than socializing. You must make yourself likable enough."

"I'm not sure I like where this is going, sir…"

If anything, it sounded as if she was going to be coerced into doing something quite unpleasant.

"…" Kanda grunted in silent agreement, besides her.

"Aside from being a girl, Allen, you are to impersonate someone."

"What?_Impersonate_-"

"- A long lost relative, to prevent suspicion. It has come to our attention recently, through what Kanda has told me and what your master here has seen through Timcanpi," Komui said dramatically, "that you are in the possession of a heirloom from an old money family."

"Heirloom?" The British exorcist parroted.

"The necklace, boy." Cross snapped. "Entrusted to you by a woman who believe you to be the daughter she abandoned like an abiding member of the conforming high society that she is from."

Stunned, she couldn't even give her master the glower that he deserved.

"After all," Komui said, more gently. "If your features are recognizably familiar and similar enough to a fifteen year old memory and the living comparison, a little brother, to be mistaken for her daughter…"

"No."

"Lady Kingsley's husband is one collaborator in the gambling ring."

"No. No."

"-If you go bearing that heirloom and that little boy, and-"

"No."

"-If you arouse sympathy and protective feelings from someone who may suspect you to be a family member-"

"_No_. I won't do this."

"-Allen. If you are accepted because you look like someone else, everything else would be moot. Your arm sounds like the 'curse,' something red and scaly- and it does look like something that people would have feared."

"What do you mean?" She demanded. "What do you mean? They will only accept me because they see the shadows of the past- and they may fear that past, or even denounce it because it is a painful reminder of what transpired. They will see me, bearing a dead woman's locket and the news of her death not to mention her surviving child, as an ill omen."

"Allen…"

"It's an _insult _to both of them- mother and son. I refuse to have people raise bloody hell over someone I'm not. Respect that memory that that family has of that little daughter- they hated her."

And indeed it was, playing upon the grief caused by the woman's death and the relief of returning little Edmund back home, to introduce a new figure into the complicated equation.

Suddenly, to bring up a young girl who was a ghost of the past, who everyone saw shadows of the recently deceased mother in- that would be to take advantage of emotion. Allen would then be so easily accepted, just because they would see the physical similarities and crave to see just a little of it, once more…

Or, she could be awaking regrets better abandoned fifteen years ago with an infant girl. Or even arouse hate for being such a painful reminder of a woman who had just died- wouldn't the features to too awful to gaze on when they were too similar for comfort but still not, never the same?

Grief was sacred. Family was sacred. Allen had denounced all ties with her life, had renounced any identity but that given to her by Mana Walker, her sole parent, and thusly did not deserve anything else.

"It's an insult to the poor little girl that nobody was thinking of when they abandoned her- to take her place as a person who was offered a better opportunity. It's selfish of us to not consider the fact that we're interfering directly within a family, which is more than our boundaries will let us- aren't we supposed to be discreet?"

"But this…_arrangement_ eliminates the questions to just why you look so similar to a dead woman, as you say. And why she would trust you enough to give into your care her identifying heirloom- that is exactly what it is." Komui coolly said. "And the easier you get in there- of course, people are going to be curious and it'd be easier to make acquaintances- the sooner we can get around to getting to the root of all the problems and solving what's wrong with England."

"Che. You've all obviously never considered something…What if they don't trust him- her- because of that?" Kanda snarled at them all. "They'd think that he's some imposter or gold-digger with that locket and brat trailing after him."

Allen never thought that she'd see the day when she would be singing praises of hosanna to the lord for just creating Kanda Yuu to intervene at that moment.

"Technically speaking he's already married to you, so you can take out the gold-digger part." Cross informed him.

…And her master could go to the devil for all she cared.

"Hmph. I don't care. And what if the family doesn't want a cursed brat back? Our own Allen Walker here also had the same fate, didn't he?"

"And you," Allen recommended pleasantly with a flash of sharp fangs. "can sleep on the couch when we go to England. Although that is a valid point, yes- what if they don't want Elena back?"

Didn't care to take _her_ back; did not want the skeletal remainder of a long-dead memory to arise from the shadows of London's gutters to haunt them- because in the end that was probably what she was to them as a monster child. Only such animosity would have warranted such extreme reaction such as abandonment.

"All the same, it would draw some attention to you. Contrary to common sense, our goal is to-"

"-kill Tyki Mick." Kanda told Komui frostily. "I thought we've established that the Noahs are causing problems. Take them out, and we'll be finished, wouldn't we."

How impressive. Impressively…_simpleminded_? Not that Allen thought that she was anyone to think so, knowing full well that she probably would have done the same in his position of not knowing anything about the prerequisite for the mission: gambling.

Leave it to Kanda to simplify everything to the barest of necessities, to flail reason until it was but shreds of the core matter easily taken care of by a blade and devoid of any details that would otherwise be obstructive to further consideration of strategies.

"And a long-lost child popping out of the woodwork is not something that'd be easily received in a high-bred family. It's suspicious, frankly."

"Killing Tyki Mick before we find out how deep he is in the muck is foolhardy." Komui interjected in a hard voice. "We need to know just how deeply involved he is. If we pull him out of the infrastructure of the nobility, we need to ensure that it will not fall down due to the lack of his presence or the meddlings that he does."

"A lot of economic wellbeing is resting on your shoulders, and you need to stabilize the conditions there, that's all. Keep an eye on the nobility, that's all." Cross murmured, getting up. "Not that I envy you two your jobs, though."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It's just so wonderfully convenient, isn't it?" Komui had called out to Allen Walker nonchalantly as he left. "That you'd look like a girl and have a parasitic weapon that resembles her curse."

Of course, there was no insult meant. Not that Allen knew that, and Komui was suddenly left debating the content of his own words once they had left his mouth, since he certainly did not want to antagonize the polite young boy.

The scientist was not surprised, then, when he stiffened slightly. But when the boy turned his face towards him again, it was once again obscured by the normal pained smile that he normally displayed.

"Allen-"

"It is convenient, fortunately. Well, it makes my duty somewhat easier." Allen said nicely, and left.

Komui reasoned it all off as bad memories.

It was cruel, in a way, to make Allen in a way relive such memories, to make it all come true again as he set off to reconcile what another family elsewhere had done to a girl who was like him.

To take the place of someone that could have been him perhaps brought on an onslaught of guilt, anger, and regret all in one, and when combined with the lethalness of resentment, it made for one explosive cocktail. To be hated, unreasonably, was something that no doubt the fifteen year old's mind was still unable to comprehend, not able to grasp just why humans could be so cruel and unthinking.

Perhaps it was nearly presumptuous and condescending to be so dismissive of Allen's own coping abilities when the kid was already fifteen and a skilled exorcist capable of being the messiah they all hoped for. But Komui had always been one to disregard skills in favor of only gazing critically at mental faults.

"…And I suppose you're to skewer me now." The scientist lamented as he looked at Kanda, who had remained behind of his own volition. "Let me kiss Lenalee goodbye first, at least. And drink one last cup of coffee- although that may have to wait since I left all my Blue Mountain at the headquarters…"

Being a coffee snob had its benefits, if it would allow him to prolong his demise.

Kanda's nose twitched in the slightest parody of an expression, nudging the little fire of annoyance back into submission. "I won't kill you yet."

"That doesn't make me feel any better though." Komui drawled.

"Che. Or I can kill you _now_…" The exorcist threatened, full well preparing to execute the threat to its fullest.

"I'd rather be spared that as well."

"Why?" Kanda demanded angrily. "Why place me and that…cursed brat together on the same mission? And on such a…._task_."

His tone was stilted, clipped, and coldly furious and to good reason as well. Being put on the same collaborative mission with the person that one deeply despised tended to do that.

"Because you two will work well together." Komui said, not at all looking forward to explaining to Kanda when Mugen was within easy reach and the eighteen-year old's thumb poised with killing intent upon the tsuba.

Komui had witnessed before the frightening inhuman speed at which Kanda could so effortlessly draw steel, the tsuba slipping forward at the beck of a thumb and easily pulling the rest of the blade out of the sheath and plunging gracefully in a long sweeping, lethal arc.

And all before you said the word 'die.'

"You can ask Lenalee. I explained to her already." Komui offered. "Basically, it all boils down to the fact that the two of you have opposing features and are in a way foils for each other with all your differences that irk the hell out of each other. And thusly you and your skills complement each other in a way that a finely-tuned pair accustomed to each others' idiosyncrasies would not. And then, I would have had to send you and Lavi out- and who would be the girl then?"

"…"

Komui reasoned that Kanda was still working out slowly just what attributes of his complemented his partner's, other than the obvious differences in weapon choice.

"All except for temper. Allen's got quite the temper, even if he keeps it mostly into check- lately he's been out of sorts, though, although I suspect he'd be a lot less frustrated if he wasn't sick lately…Although I think Allen's less temperamental- just somewhat repressed and needing an outlet, like some sort of secret trying to break its way free and he can't cope with it."

"…"

"Otherwise he's a relatively docile kid. Who's pretty nice and who can get along with ladies." Komui's face noticeably darkened at the latter point. "I'd be thankful if he doesn't take advantage of those qualities and adapt his master's more doubtful tendencies."

"…Why not Lavi with him?"

Komui sighed. "Too hot-headed. Both of them. Emotionally charged, and both react violently to human suffering. Nuff' said."

Kanda did not appear convinced in the very slightest, and Komui added, "And you wouldn't want a reoccurrence of the Matel mission, would you. Allen simply rushed in."

"It resulted in both of us being heavily injured, damn it- like I said, we shouldn't work together."

"Of course, I don't want that to happen either. Which is why you should work on forming a somewhat cohesive, single front in the face of danger."

Needless to say, that didn't really explain or conclude anything. Just reciprocated the argument and flung it back in a different way that Kanda would never notice.

"Crowley? Miranda?_**Lenalee**_?" Kanda suggested, particularly voicing the very last recommendation in a brutally sarcastic tone.

"_No_." Komui snapped, obviously incensed at the lattermost mention of his sibling's name. "There is no way-"

"Che. That selfish brat doesn't like her, you know." Kanda snarled unflatteringly. "He wouldn't know attraction if it beat him over the head with a_toothpick_."

"…That's what I was afraid of." The scientist sighed.

Well, even the icy Kanda Yuu had such an opinion, although derogatory as it was as usual when it regarded said brat. It only stoked Komui's anxiety over his tender-hearted sister's sad taste in men- not that Komui would ever dare to mention it aloud to her tear-streaked face when she finally met the bitter end of that particular folly.

Kanda looked somewhat at a loss, although Komui figured that the exorcist did have a reason to be confused considering how his own actions had been contradictory and mixed when regarding the protection of his beloved little sister.

His own feelings had been just as deeply divided between uncertain irritation with Allen Walker and Lenalee, and then a tiny little tinge of warmth to know that Lenalee had finally found someone else to take into her life.

It was a deep, fierce love and want for Lenalee's happiness, mingled with the bittersweet poison of jealousy and possessiveness and nearly a cutting loneliness that astounded even himself in all its magnitude when he even just _thought_ of the possibility that she was moving on without him.

And then, there was the uncertainty, and the knowledge that it was no other than Allen Walker the Destroyer of Time who would just as well rip his own heart out of his chest and offer it around, a child-man who was hunted and persecuted by greater powers like the Earl and perhaps…even something more sinister.

Bookman had hinted at that, once, twice, but no more than half-rambling mutterings of a knowledge beyond Komui's privilege to be privy to as Chief.

Bookman was never wrong.

And that was why Komui would never give up on Lenalee when it became certain that her infatuation was at most merely an obsession with the persona that Allen had built around him so carefully.

"…Hmph. I don't care." Kanda finally muttered, apparently disgusted with the way their conversation was going.

"Oh! So was that all you wanted to ask me?" Komui asked cheerfully.

"…I'm still going to slaughter you."

"Not before I fix Allen, of course."

"Hmph…It would be like you to trap me with a deadbeat partner that can't fight."

For the taciturn exorcist, that was a pun, abet one that Komui didn't feel like fulfilling for efficiency reasons.

"Is there anyone that we should look out for? Any particular bloodlines that need to be targeted?"

"Not really. I'd start with the Kingsley family- Edmund's apparently heir apparent to the fortune. It's a tidy amount of land, and nearly a fifth of the textiles industry if I'm correct."

"Tell that to the Beansprout. I wash my hands of the little wretch."

"…it's a good thing that Allen looks so much like him, ne?" Komui added. "But of the two of you, you're closer to Edmund, aren't you?"

"…No."

Of the two of them, Kanda would say that the Baby Brat should have chosen the Big Cursed Brat to foster his attachment upon.

After all, Allen had an abundance of goodwill to distribute to the common masses and Edmund had seemed to have taken to him very well, as most people eventually reacted towards Allen after the initial shock of seeing his curse manifested in his white hair and eye, and to a certain degree, although it was not so much a curse as a destined attribute, his parasitic arm.

Komui sighed, not for the first time feeling the familiar tension of dealing with Kanda- a tight, stretched wariness that was not at all helped by the young man's prominent subjectivity when it came to vocal complaints of his colleagues. And then there was the lack of expansive expression when it came to just why- mugen's blade wielded a little too close for comfort tended to prove everything.

"Look here- I am aware that you are less than pleased. I'm sure you'd like to work with anyone but Allen. Or nobody at all." The scientist quickly amended. "I've already provided a sufficient explanation to Allen, which you should have retained. It'd be unprofessional otherwise to have both of you at odds with each other. Cooperation can only aid the speed of completing your mission."

Kanda favored him with a withering look. "…Che. I could care less. Anyhow, anything that-"

"Basically, you and Allen are to go and gamble, in layman's terms. The two of you are to win your way into the ringleaders' trust, by proving yourselves worthy and useful with your incredible skills at cheating."

"…"

"Allen will teach you how to play cards. He's very good- Lavi swears that he's so fast with his hands that nobody ever suspects that he's cheating, and that Lavi has a quick eye himself." Komui quipped.

"He's not. He's too dependent on those cheap tricks."

"Still, they're useful tricks that you'd do well to learn and remember- can't have you dragging him down, right?"

"They're cheap." The exorcist bristled with indignation. "_He'll_ drag _me_ down."

"Anyhow, while you're both having fun playing-"

Kanda snorted.

"-yes, having fun playing. You will both try to get yourselves into good graces with the other nobility. They'll expect you two to perform the activities of a regular high-bred couple, such as the customary dancing and mingling, et cetera et cetera. Then you'd both be able to investigate-"

"-Dancing?!"

"It's not below your abilities, I assure you. It's quite difficult, really, in that partners have to be coordinated enough to accompany each other and the music and take notice of not bumbling into other pairs without tripping over their own feet."

"…Are you insulting my skills?" Kanda growled.

"Don't assume that so quickly, Kanda-kun. I've just given you the run down- play some poker and bridge, play cricket, dance, mingle, and all in all find out just what Tyki Mick is planning."

"…"

"I've neglected to tell Allen this, but there is a 90 possibility that Tyki Mick himself would be participating in the gambling ring himself, since he out of all the Noahs is the only one who will do everything in person, without some avatar such as an akuma to fulfill his duties in destroying the world."

"…So he'll know. And attempt to stop us."

"He wouldn't, at the very least not when the two of you are in public. He likes toying with exorcists, since that's his sort of personality. That's a haphazard assumption to make, and one that we're backing the two of yours' lives on." Komui reflected grimly.

"Che. That's stupid."

"In addition, Allen's the prophecy-fulfiller." Komui continued seriously. "We need him to lure the Noahs out, and because he is the destroyer of time we believe that he will survive."

"…Bait." Kanda said. "The Beansprout serves as bait."

Of course, it sounded even worse when even Kanda stated it like that, in a flat emotionless tone that seemed blunt and cutting despite its distinct lack of expression.

And even then, it sounded more and more fantastically improbable and unrealistic: to pit the worth of exorcists against the nearly invincible Earl with all his infinite supplies of akuma and grieving people to make akuma from.

In hindsight, there was also the loophole on the portion of reasoning that required that Tyki spared Allen and Kanda out of caprice and a desire to satisfy his inner sadistic purposes. If that condition was fulfilled, then the rest of the mission of infiltration and investigation on the Noah's own activity could be more or less finished without a hitch.

That was too fluctuating a variable for Komui to trust, and he was relatively young but not so inexperienced as to depend on the reaction of an outside party beyond his control.

Tyki's presence certainly threw everything else off, since he could easily influence nobles at his whim, and would present an obstacle with his constant being there.

With Tyki around, they could not find anything on the devious intentions of the Earl behind meddling in England.

On that train of thought, it would be self-contradictory for Allen to serve as bait, since then it would be too forceful an intrusion and the Noahs would imminently act to kill the boy, and then there was no point to their painstaking subterfuge so as not to disturb the fragile relationships among the wealthy gamblers, and by extension the nobility.

"…Anyhow, Allen will teach you to play, and you don't have to worry about that. We'll brief you guys a second time after you're all prepared. A one week crash course in etiquette and general British-ness for you and girliness for Allen will suffice…."

It just so happened that it was exactly what Kanda was concerned over.

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"…I can explain everything, Miranda!" Allen panicked, grabbing the older exorcist's flailing arms and gently directing her to a chair before she keeled over. "It's all right….just put your head down….that's it….feeling somewhat better?"

The teenaged exorcist backed away, once she was certain that Miranda wouldn't twist it all into some failure on Miranda's own part and hurled herself out the window. Miranda had a bad habit of doing self-deprecating and dangerous things like that, even if the fault never lay with her.

"…You…You're…"

"No…it's all my fault that you never noticed….I was intent on deceiving you all for reasons that I will explain as soon as you're calm." Allen placed a cup of strong tea into the woman's hands, and pulled her shirt closed, aware that the bandages were loosened around her chest, enough so as to allow the curves there to show through.

"…With your sort of luck, why weren't you discovered long ago, Allen?" Lenalee sighed, putting away the ointment and bandages that she had recently made use of on Allen's bruised stomach. "Only slight lacerations of the muscles over your stomach; a little internal bleeding- nothing too bad really if you don't overexert yourself in the next few days and don't use your parasitic weapon, since that saps your energy too much."

"It's just that I didn't hear the knock this time!-I wouldn't have known that she was going to _walk right in_. With my sort of luck, I would have died long ago."

"You'd be an awful akuma."

"Heh…that's not funny, Lenalee."

"And button up your shirt- you're scaring poor Miranda."

"I'm binding my chest again, now." Allen mumbled, scowling. "I'd really like to avoid traumatizing anyone else who happens to intrude, although I wouldn't mind scarring Kanda for life if he wouldn't make a laughingstock of me first."

"I…I…"

Allen's head swiveled back to looking at Miranda, a sympathetic expression immediately overtaking her face. Miranda was made out of stronger stuff than she appeared, but she didn't deserve the shock of discovering it without hearing the reasons for her deceptions- nobody did.

"You're a….a…"

"Unfortunately this body is real, Miranda." Allen mumbled. "It was bound to come out sooner or later."

"I only knew this morning," Lenalee cut in soothingly. "So you weren't uninformed, it was just Allen here neglected to tell you."

"I'm sorry I've been deceiving you for all this time. But I'll explain as soon as I'm decent."

"-Do you need help?"

And the way that she and Lenalee had found common ground and were interacting in a way that was even a little more friendly and playful than before, just about bewildered her poor spinning head. This new intimacy was not unwelcome, of course, but it was certainly a difference that she was still uneasy with.

"No." Allen ducked behind the wooden changing partition set up in the room, which seemed to be a bedroom by looks of it.

Her hands trembled, like nervous little birds, as she carefully wound the bandages around with all the speed of acquired use, and fingered the buttons back into place. The shirttails she left hanging out of her waistband, instead of tucking them in as she normally would have done.

When she again presented herself it was with her heart calmly beating, strong and determined because she knew she had gone through it once with Lenalee, and one more time was not going to kill her or her image. For the most part.

Miranda's large eyes were staring at her guilelessly, without all accusation. In a way, it was much more horrific and heartbreaking in its passiveness than Lenalee's cool anger.

"Well, it's a long story that starts around six or so years ago…."

That was a good start.

Perhaps after numerous individuals' accidentally discovering her true gender, she would have already been used to it enough to have composed a standard speech/explanation/apology to use for each occasion.

Miranda was an excellent listener, her facial features extravagantly expressive. Her reaction at first had been expected, but Allen had not surmised such calmness coming from her, although having so many disappointments already in her previous life as a civilian had no doubt already been enough of a bolster for whatever else she would face as an exorcist.

Her hysterics regarding everything else didn't intrude on her support of her friends, apparently, which made the exorcist feel guiltier than ever for taking advantage of that trust and dare she say gullibility.

And indeed, it showed that Miranda was not to be underestimated, despite her less than stable mindset at some times and a complex that came close to but never interfered with her duty.

"…and I'm truly very apologetic for making you think that I was a boy all this time…" Allen concluded, glad that she did not to be so aware of the older woman, not treading on eggshells because Miranda didn't have a crush on her as Lenalee had.

Miranda's dark eyes rimmed with circles crinkled, and her mouth tipped up in a small smile.

That alone was enough for Allen.

"It doesn't matter what gender you are- you're our own Allen Walker and I can care less about whether or not you're a male or female."

"Even if it's disconcerting, a little." Allen chuckled, taking in her reluctant and somewhat unsure expression.

"No! No, it's not like that- I mean, you're one of the kindest-"

"I meant it only it jest." Allen quickly reassured her desperately, eager not to see Miranda fling herself out the window.

"So…erm…" Her eyes bobbed downwards towards her lap. "…maybeitsnotmyplacetosaythis, but-"

"You have more than the right to say anything considering how awful a person I am compared to being a good exorcist, and even there I'm pretty much a failure." Allen sighed. "It tears me up how I couldn't tell any of you anything…but do go on."

"…It could hardly be healthy to bind yourself like that." Miranda acquiesced. "I've seen many a lady stuffed into a dress with an overly tight bodice and stayed flat because- I'm sorrh! I'm not implying that your…developments…are anything other than adequate but I really do think that…"

Allen twitched miserably. "That's very much all right with me. Female appendages would only get in my way."

"I'm sorry! That was rude of me-"

"Any self-respecting woman would have known that long ago." Allen reassured her. "I've known that since I was eleven. They're still growing, unfortunately, and I certainly hope they won't hinder me in the future."

Sad as it was, that was the truth, especially for an exorcist that specialized more in hand to hand combat, although as of late she had been experimenting with firing more beams.

"And there you go sounding like Kanda." Lenalee commented mildly.

"Don't compare me with the straight-fringe. Last time I checked, he didn't have _this_ sort of problem." Allen muttered unhappily. "He's speaking on bias alone."

"…You sound concerned and even sad with this arrangement- with deception and all." Miranda commented, apparently hesitant to speak on uncertain ground.

"Nobody likes to lie to friends, Miranda."

Lenalee gave a rather uncharacteristic snort. "She was stating to me this morning an entire repertoire of reasons justifying everything and trying to convince herself that she just had to be male and was less than worthy of having friends and that the rest of us shouldn't put our noses where they don't belong."

"…I never said that-"

"We love you, Allen, even if you're a self-sacrificing crossdresser. We don't want you to get hurt." Lenalee said kindly. "Just as you don't want us to get hurt. I'd like to say that protecting each other is mutual."

Allen gulped. Apparently forgiveness and friendship from Lenalee was somewhat different than what she had expected, and she was fairly sure that her own being female had given Lenalee the opportunity to be more open and blunter than she was able to be with the 'other boys.' Had she been 'male' she was certain that Lenalee would have been somewhat more reserved with her.

The Boys- she had been one of them, once.

All of a sudden Cross popped his infuriating head in.

"Master!" Allen fumed. "Knock first, please."

"It doesn't matter, stupid. You're decent."

Miranda kept on stealing nervous looks between herself and Cross.

"My master makes it a point to know everything, so yes, he knows." Allen gritted out through her teeth. "that I'm a girl."

"Miss Lott knows? How convenient- that means that she can just make your clothes, being a former seamstress at one point in her long and fallible career." Cross said. "Some of the clothes cannot be store-brought. They'll have to be specially tailored to meet your needs if you ever foresee yourself getting into dangerous situations. A dress that can accommodate a small weapon or something like that…"

Miranda began hyperventilating, nearly immediately, at the mention of the responsibility. "…I-I'm not….I'm not qualified…the latest fashions…"

"Komui wanted me to inform you lot that by the end of today you two ladies will have to do something to my buffoon of a student to make 'him' into a pretty lassie, although she'd fit the part well enough if she just stopped using makeup and the bandages."

And with that, Cross disappeared to continue on with his previous frivol, hopefully for Allen's sake something that wouldn't be expensive and end up with him piss-drunk in some uncouth brothel.

"As long as he doesn't get into trouble…" The exorcist muttered. "And it's not funny, the two of you. You haven't seen my Master when he's drunk. It's bloody frightful."

"It's almost contradictory, that someone like he would represent the Order as a general." Lenalee remarked.

"He's achieved full synchronization- I don't think our superiors, whoever they are, would have any other choice than to promote him. He's too valuable an exorcist, no matter how dubious his qualities." Allen said darkly. "He's an important personage, that much I know, he with all his secrets. He's a heathen by moral and Christian standards, but as an exorcist he's…._gold_."

"Not all of us in the order are law-abiding, pious church-goers."

"I go to Sunday mass, every Sunday." Miranda quipped.

"That's just you, Miranda." Lenalee said. "I stopped after my brother entered the order…"

Her fingers tracing unsure, hesitant circles upon the cloth of her black dress gathered in her lap. Allen heard the unsaid: Komui was more important than her faith, more tangible than anything that Sunday school could have forced into her impressionable, malleable young mind.

"I don't have a habit of attending church, or even confession." Allen stated firmly. "My confession would take a good half-day to get through."

"Although that option's available to exorcists- many of us take up the offer, you know. Confession's an effective absolver of all the killing that we do daily."

"It does make me feel more at ease with myself." Miranda admitted.

"I don't trust confessors. They always know too much."

"B-but Allen, they are under oath not to divulge anything."

"They are in quite a position of power, actually, where they are in knowledge of peoples' sins. You know I have too many secrets."

"Allen-is there anything else you'd like to share with us, then?"

Lenalee's normally warm brown eyes were sharp and glinting with intellect.

"If I knew, I'd tell you, but I can't."

"Ah- which reminds me. You're going to be living in close quarters with Kanda soon, and for a long duration of time." Lenaless said hesitantly. "You might like to know that-"

"-that he's an insufferable git? I'm very well informed already, thank you very much for your concern."

"…You're not in a very affable mood, are you?"

"No. I'm sorry." Allen said contritely. "I'd rather direct this pent-up frustration towards him, you know."

"You do that then. Well, the thing is- he's not exactly a devout follower of Christ, if you know what I mean."

"We've been over this already."

"His family's Buddhist, you know. Being Japanese and all."

"Oh?" That was her only reaction at first. Perhaps it was more due to the fact that she was more surprised that there were people out there who would actually put up with him out of their own free will, that she ignored everything else.

"His family?"

"Exorcists always leave their families when they're off on their career. Like Suman Dark and Deisha Barry, and me."

"It's his business, not mine."

And indeed it was- just like she would need to hide her true gender from him while living in such close proximity.

"Is there anything else that I should know before attempting to go on this mission with him?" She asked, self-consciously.

Lenalee gave her a long look, and sighed. "There's a lot- better left to him than me. Sooner or later you'll find out."

Allen frowned, feeling a little curious and out of sorts since apparently Kanda Yuu was not the two-dimensional character that was so much easier to tolerate because of the relatively simplicity of any ways she could deal with him.

God- what did she get herself into?

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"…Raise your left arm- good, no, a little lower….ah, that's it."

"Please be careful- they're needles."

"Pins, pins. Hold still or I'll wind up accidentally pricking you." Miranda said, strangely business-like and determined. "It's a good thing that being a seamstress was one of the jobs that I lasted longest at…"

Allen blanched.

Cloth, yards and yards of soft, rich material that slithered through her fingers and pooled in incessant ripples of sateen and velvet and silk and linen around the room. The quick, brushing fragility of a dress- the long folds, sheets of softness that did not encase her legs, that floated and drifted and followed the slender smooth curves of her hips no matter how she moved.

And the intimacy, of air on her skin. Of the looseness and fluttering, barely-there presence of the full skirt of a dress, that could be so easily lifted by wind or hands. That she did not feel at all comfortable with- the relative ease that the flimsy cloth could be bypassed, since silk and lace were but fragile, destructible, beautiful works of beauty that encased her body. She didn't want that sort of vulnerability.

She'd already drew up the parallels between a dress and pants in her mind, and not liked what conclusion that she had come to. The relative ease a woman's nether regions could be exposed, just a tug up- Good God, that certainly explained a lot about the status of the fairer- and not necessarily weaker- gender.

And then there was the footwear- dainty, cute little confections of satin and leather and God knew what, pretty constructions with a hard, elevated heel that made it difficult to walk much less run, and induced a hip-wobbly ('it's supposed to be cute,' Miranda claimed.) gait that exaggerated the motion of her hips.

It reminded her, sadly, of all the many vague, convoluted, numerously tangible and intangible reasons just why she posed as a male.

And just who could fight in a dress? Meaning, of course, a traditional conventional dress that wasn't Lenalee's tiny miniskirt with slits up the sides so that she could actually move.

Allen yipped as a dressmaker's pin pricked her skin, just barely.

"Don't move…." Miranda cautioned. "I'm sorry-I'm not good at this but I need to make up the shape and form of your clothes…"

"No cleavage showing." The younger exorcist maintained, horrified at the thought of the smooth rounded top of her breasts peeking out from the neckline- absolutely shameless.

"Definitely no cleavage." Lenalee agreed, glancing at her brother's clipboard. "Although it was stated in orders that you'd still appear somewhat desirable despite your married status, just to lure male members of the gambling ring to approach you."

"_No_." Allen choked out.

"That'd be revealing your little secret." Miranda observed.

"No cleavage- shoulders, maybe. It's certainly a lot more demure and less forward."

"It's a good thing that the dresses flare out at the waist- a real hourglass waist can hardly be male- we'd have to convince them that you have foam appliqués or something there to make your hips look female."

"….Foam?"

"Of course. The same for the bosom that isn't supposed to be there. Nobody in the order would notice as long as they don't stand close enough to feel the body heat emanating from the so-called foam constructions."

"But my….breasts….don't look fake enough." Allen mumbled, embarrassed. "There's so much that can go wrong- and not even the fact that Kanda's rather daft will help me any."

"I'm certain he won't be looking in the first place, so you'll be safe- he still thinks you're male, anyhow. In addition, the first thing he looks at on a woman is the neck and not the rack, as Lavi so crudely terms it."

Allen meeped, eyes widening. The last thing she wanted to hear about was that insufferable chauvinistic pig's preferred attributes on women, since that just seemed wrong and strange on so many levels.

"And you will know because…?" Allen sputtered, looking at Lenalee in shock.

"It's an Asian man sort of thing, I suppose. The only thing that you'll need to worry about is him noticing that you don't have a prominent adam's apple since you won't have your collared shirt and tie anymore."

"That's not something I can work with." Allen told her grimly. "We'll have to hope he doesn't look closely- though I wouldn't know why he'd even be looking in the first place."

"Allen- I know you don't like him at all.You drives you crazy and he's the only one who can provoke such a violent reaction out of you other than General Cross- who is always an exception." Lenalee told her seriously. "But you have to watch out. Remember." Her eyes were somber and earnest, as if she was trying to make a point that she knew Allen wouldn't understand. "Kanda Yuu is many things- shortsighted, prejudiced, and irritable. But he isn't completely_stupid_, Allen. He's not that daft. A little clueless at times, but he's surprisingly observant to a fault, if you know what I mean."

"In other words, you're telling me to be on my guard if he suspect anything."

"Right. The other Order personnel you do not have to worry about. We all trust you. But remember, Kanda doesn't. He'll be the first to watch you. In fact, I think that he's more than inclined to keep an eye out on your presence merely because he refuses to accept the fact that you're the Destroyer of Time."

"He thinks I'm weak."

"And that's why he'll watch you. Since he never trusted you in the first place. To prove that you're weak- his pride can't take it." Lenalee stated unflatteringly. "He's actually a lot stronger than we all think he is, really, and I'm sure the results of his training haven't made itself manifest in his fighting yet."

"Training?"

"Lenalee's holds the position of her brother's assistant, so she knows all the training that anyone goes through." Miranda explained. "I've recently submitted a plan to targets my lack of strength, and it was approved by both of them"

"I've never really had any…plans or…"

The sudden realization lanced through her consciousness, shaking the foundations of her being- just how much time had she wasted?

Certainly, there was the everyday sort of training. Push ups, exercises that centered on conditioning arm movements and invocating to different forms of the weapon. And then the marksmanship practice in an effort to center the assault fire to a given area to prevent the waste of ammunition (energy on her own part) and time in battle.

It was like how the earl said: lots of crappy guns, eventually you'll hit something. She'd never lower herself to that level.

But that was habituation, only. Only the exercise and functional practice of already existing skills, monotonous and acclimatized for a long time. The exorcist had never thought of moving the training in a new direction, to actually improve it. It had just been all keeping up of her abilities, only to preserve them as they were and not let them get rusty.

Her fellow exorcists, apparently, were more resourceful and efficient.

"Kanda's making leaps and bounds towards upgrading his weapon and opening up new routes of skill- perhaps another illusion, or something." Miranda was saying.

"And the strength training he's been doing is quite strenuous- I tried one of the weights that he wears in his jacket and couldn't even budge it." Lenalee offered.

"Must be resentful after I nearly crushed his hand when he was badmouthing a Finder." Allen muttered.

"He doesn't like you, but I'd think that you're motivation for him." Lenalee told her. "After seeing your own parasitic weapon upgrade, he's no doubt somewhat driven to do the same."

"Turn, please." Miranda told Allen, removing a pin. "After I've taken the measurements, I'll make up a few dresses. The rest will have to be store-brought, but I'll need to make up a few that you can wear when you know you'll be going into dangerous situations…a few secret pockets here and that sort of thing."

"I suppose conventional weapons, since I can't invocate."

"Although the idea of you taking down Tyki Mick with a little penknife is somewhat laughable, I guess. I've heard that people do wonders with jewelry nowadays- a wedding ring with the diamond inverted and sharp enough to cut down to the bone." Lenalee said dryly. "While you're pretty well versed in close combat, anything you're wearing will impede you, especially a corset since it pretty much discourages movement in general. I really don't know what my brother's thinking. Kanda will not be with you all the time."

"I certainly hope not."

Lenalee gave her A Look, a sharp glance that she had perfected from experience with dealing with the other members of the clergy as Komui's assistant and paper-work scapegoat.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable with him around." Allen explained stiffly. "Especially not in this guise."

It was only natural- she could only be reminded of their polarities that set them apart. Previously it had only been personality, outlook, opinion, and all sorts of negligible minute differences that were obvious to both day-to-day observers and the common passerby. But then it would be gender as well, and she wasn't exactly sure how he would treat her.

How she would act was at the very least already established- like herself, Allen Walker the exorcist, the same person that she had always been.

The exorcist could only sink her gloved fingers into that singular illusion and will it not to slip away, even as she was to be dolled up and crimped and swept up into an identity she knew she was never meant to assume in the first place.

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Windows, laced with shimmering and eye-dazzling specimens of human talent, enmeshed in soft fibre and thread and a gluttonous force of consumer interest and money that practicality and common sense couldn't possibly compare with.

For an hour she and her companions walked the seams of mission and leisure, crossed the stitches of a time limit because there were just so many shops and so many dresses and so many colors that could be coupled with ivory-pale skin and wide blue eyes.

Her fingers slid aimlessly into silky folds of countless dresses, enjoying the caressing presence of the soft cloth for the first time in her life.

It was only then that the exorcist had realized just why her master was so affixed upon the pretense of appearance and apparel on others and himself: clothes, whether casual or formal, were one of the few pleasures that an exorcist couldn't possibly afford to wear- not buy- because his or her duty centered around the blatant display of the Rose Cross attached to their image as clergy members as well as their lives.

"That'll bring out the gray in your eyes."

"My eyes have gray?" Allen asked stupidly, glancing at the pearly gray silk, as Miranda nodded her assent to Lenalee's statement.

"Sometimes- they're a little darker sometimes. I'd assume it's based off mood. And this one-"

"It's _reddish purple_." She protested.

"Now, it's not so bad-"

"No. Burgundy, not reddish-purple. That would be maroon."

"Brownish-red, then, with a little purple…"

"Burgundy, I tell you. Like the liquor your Master is so fond of."

Allen blanched at the harmless reference.

"I really don't like that shade, though- it reminds me of dried blood-"

"-and wine. It's a lovely color." Lenalee said gently. "It will look lovely on you, Allen."

"The words 'lovely' and 'Allen' don't quite belong together in the same question, I'm afraid." Said exorcist mumbled, completely missing the imperceptible expression fluttering over her friend's face.

"Can't I wear this?" Allen suggested pathetically, holding up a massive sateen construction that was clearly in terrible fashion judgment. What little of her eye for color (insufficient as it already was) had deteriorated after five hours of clothes-choosing to the point that she merely held up anything and everything for Lenalee and Miranda's cursory inspection.

Trial and error, after all, got the job done a little quicker. Miranda would bluster and hem and haw, not wanting to hurt her feelings about her fashion sense- or lack of thereof. Lenalee would pale, chuckle nervously, and proceed to shoot her idea down.

"No- that's canary yellow. The last color any self-respecting fashionable lady would dare attire herself in when winter comes about." Lenalee said. "Of course, spring is a different matter all together."

Miranda quietly handed the dumbstruck exorcist a midnight-blue and cream velvet dress, careful so as not to crumple the flounce at the back.

"It's good that you're skin is so pale- nearly any color will match as long as you stay away from garish shades that will wash your coloring out."

"This gray frock really would be fitting…"

"At last a decent one…" Lenalee approved.

"Score." Allen muttered triumphantly.

"A good gingham print never hurt anyone, a little casualness will do on countryside ventures…and a white silk."

"It's alright to wear white in winter and not canary yellow?"

"Canary yellow is a summer color. White is fin-"

"Don't explain. I won't get it." Allen sighed, grudgingly adjusting the armful of apparel that was steadily and surely accumulating in her arms. "I certainly hope that you don't expect me to actually wear all of these? One person generally wears one dress at a time, you know."

"And one lady is expected to change clothes at many times of the day, suitable for each event and hours. Tea time, dinner, games-"

"Don't remind me." Allen told her, cutting her off before her heart sank any lower in her chest and her blood pressure reached unhealthy heights. "Please don't. I find it less than encouraging."

"Shall we head back to the Stephansdom?" She entreated her friends and fellow exorcists.

It felt frivolous.

So utterly unnecessary and so utterly wasteful, for her to be shopping and acquiring new, pretty things that caught her eye. The acquisition of flattery and time-wasting endeavors that somehow happened to be part of the inescapable, awful mission that she had been assigned to. High society was not for her, not for her that was meant for the battlefield and to wisely use the time allotted to her earthly form to take down the bane of human existence: the earl.

Sitting pretty and choosing dresses apparently was part of her mission now, but it certainly didn't mean that it didn't feel wrong in a sense.

At the very least they had not chosen out any red dresses- red, unforgivable red, tracing guilt and blame and memories and sorrow and most of all, the pain, onto her own flesh and bones under the silk.

"How about this one?" Lenalee held up a pretty red dress, trimmed generously and light.

Absolved, deep, colorful sin. More innocuous _bullshit_ and bloody hell, all coincidence and bland bad taste on her own part, everything hovering on the edge of reminding and forgetting, just the avoidance that had been so pressing, so urgent upon her mind every time she saw a red dress like that.

Red, cut flatteringly and laced with ruffles across the shoulders, intended to display in arrogant and proud vanity the wide sliver of warm, supple, young flesh. Just enough to offer a tantalizing hint of something more, and God knew that her mind would turn and run as far, far, far away as possible from that particular train of thought. Any lower and- she shuddered.

How insipid the darting glances would be, attracted and held and monopolized until Allen couldn't go anywhere else without the blasted eyes pinning her to the bloody ceiling. She was more often than not glad for a simple dress shirt and vest from her male attire, inasmuch as the bindings underneath were tight and stifling her body.

"I don't like it." She said, replacing it on the counter and motioning, nearly imperiously, for the shopkeeper to remove that offending article from her sight.

"Nonsense," Lenalee said reclaiming the dress, and that marked the end of whatever half-hearted, feeble struggles Allen had put up in an endeavor to prevent herself from being wholly dressed up like some sort of plaything.

The exorcist bit back an exasperated sigh as they moved on to searching for undergarments.

"We'll need at least five steamer trunks to get this to England." Allen mumbled unenthusiastically, booted toes picking at the carpet as Miranda held a dress up and compared the skirt length from her waist down.

"Six, more like." Lenalee said dismissively. "You can't wrinkle them. And that's perfectly all right- you won't have to carry them yourself."

Two corsets, seven different varieties of panniers and underskirts and twelve befrilled slips later, Allen gave up and allowed with much trepidation the other two female exorcists to choose the wardrobe

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Cool fingertips skillfully lifting the snowy locks she'd worn without complaint for years, smoothing back the bangs curling into tendrils with dampness with almost a careless ease.

The small wooden teeth of a comb biting into her crown, dragging down on the surface of the scalp with a gentle pressure, the diameter of each tooth effortlessly gliding past and separating each strand with preciseness. Lenalee carefully threading her hand though, working a stray tangle at the base of her neck out with accustomed, deft movements of her skilled fingers.

"You don't take care of your hair." The pretty Chinese exorcist reprimanded, without any harshness.

"I have to apply cosmetics to my face every day and make sure it makes me _consistently_ look like a boy. It's not exactly the most time-sparing activity, really. I don't have that sort of luxury to do the same to my hair." She snipped back.

"…And the back looks as if you cut it yourself."

"I did. I don't like anyone going near me with scissors."

Anyhow, her master usually complained that hairdressers took off either too much or too little, and an unfortunate occurrence involving him and a hair curler gone awry had proven to her the dangers of salons.

"What are we going to do with you, Allen?" Lenalee sighed.

"Teach me, perhaps? It wasn't as if I was raised as a girl in the first place." Allen said, with the most winning smile she could muster.

"What kind of brown do you want?" Miranda asked. "It _was_ brown, right?"

Allen frowned, staring at the swatches. "I…"

"You can't possibly expect not to be looked at askance if you have a head full of white hair." Miranda said sensibly.

Shades and shade of brunette, amassed and aggregated into a tauntingly wide palette of selections before her confused eyes. Had it really been so long since she'd looked in the mirror and got used to seeing a mass of snow-white? She had always appreciated the nuances of color, and the countless shadows and hues that were embedded in life, from the matte realism of a cool flesh tone to the highlights on skin to the deep stinging red seeping through her black cloak. "Um…"

"If you don't remember, we can just make you a blond- children's hair tend to lighten, sometimes, as they grow up. Perhaps you would have been a natural-"

"Not blonde." Allen maintained.

Not unforgivable, beautiful, dead blonde that was the same golden-caramel color of her estranged little brother's curling locks, and of a woman who she couldn't save. Not the brilliant blonde that she wasn't, by the folly of nature. (She had, though, been imbued with on birthright whim, the blue eyes that were just as unforgivable and unforgettable- and that was enough.)

Not the lovely, liquid blonde that so resembled molten strands of liquid gold; Smarting, gilt, glittering excessiveness-a wince every time she caught a glimpse of an image reminiscent of regret, a softened heart hardened against guilt, a crying child, a dead woman.

"Not my sort of recessive brown hair, not likely. Not that shade-I'd say a cooler tone?" Allen remarked. "I remember that I used to be a darker shade of brunette. Not all that deep, though- just enough blue in it to appear…that shade, I think."

"This?"

"Close enough." Allen said somberly, staring at the little piece of cardboard that displayed a somewhat familiar shade of brown. She placed it upon her arm, taking in the contrast between her white skin and that particular brunette- a combination that was now as strange and alien to her as her white hair had once been to her in the mirror. "I really can't imagine that I'd been born with this original color hair."

The fallacy of memory- she couldn't trust even her own mind to archive information like she needed it to- she was no Bookman and didn't possess the infallible savant-like mind necessary to record and remember history without any bias. They could separate emotion and facts like no other men could possibly, and that was one ability that the exorcist envied above all.

But would being an automaton exorcist really be what was required to be a savior? Would an emotionless savior have any _relevance_, any meaning or even significance if everything was just….automatic, for lack of a different word?

"I'm pretty sure it's this shade." Allen said firmly.

"It looks fitting." Miranda admitted, selecting the appropriate bottle of dye and testing its weight in the palm of her hand. "This should be more than enough to cover all of your hair at one time."

"Very well then." Lenalee said, attacking her with the comb and even more water and enthusiasm. "We'll start then…"

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It was called prudence.

Lenalee had none of it, and even seemed to behaving fun at her own expense- it really wasn't as if Allen had any right to mind, but at the very best it nearly smarted. She wouldn't go so far to call it _condensating_ since Lenalee's personality was that of the nice, caring, nurturing sort and it was like second nature to fuss. Not even Miranda's good, puritan sensibilities had saved her from the worst of it all.

It was called shame.

Good God, she wanted to curl up in a corner and die, as her dignity was already somewhat_shriveling_ at the indignities she had suffered, having been unceremoniously prostrated in front of a small vanity by a proud and glowing Lenalee.

"The kohl and lipstick were unnecessary." She bit out, without any insult meant.

"They complete the image, you have to admit that much." Her treacherous friend returned with too much ease and too much glee, reaching out to tenderly sweep a misled newly brown coil of hair back into its proper place and to angle the pretty confection of a hairpin for maximum display, so that it sparkled grandly from the cluster of brunette curls pulled back with a black velvet ribbon. "Nothing like pretty red lips and defined eyes to beguile someone into telling you something."

The last part was said in a dark, somber tone.

"I'm sorry- I know you mean for the best, but it's not exactly a welcome change." Allen whispered stiffly.

"I like it." Miranda offered.

That was only marginally reassuring.

"At least it isn't the red one…" The exorcist murmured, plucking petulantly at the rich black velvet material, smoothing it out and watching the creases part the furry consistency of the velvet.

"Allen- I heard from Lavi-"

"I'm not blaming myself, if that's what you mean."

Miranda looked visibly gratified as she left the room, and Allen wondered if Miranda was the only person in the order that took her words on face value alone.

"You'll have to go through intensive training later to act the part and not only look like a lady." Lenalee added, sending her heart plummeting downwards in her chest. "But first, you'll have to get used to a dress and wearing higher heeled shoes. The latter aren't exactly the most comfortable things to wear."

The first step was torture- it was as if the balls of her feet were unstably balanced on the flimsy-feeling poor excuses for soles on the shoes. Her sense of balance was thankfully much more developed and honed than her sense of direction, but even athletic experience from turning cartwheels and doing handsprings couldn't save her foot from faltering at first.

It was as if her ankle had turned awkwardly so that she couldn't maintain a steady position.

Wobble. Crash.

"…Are you alright?" Lenalee inquired with much worry evident in her tone.

"Don't coddle me- this is just one more barrier I have to overcome in doing my duty." Allen muttered, and stared perplexed as her friend laughed out loud.

She got back on her feet as she had done time after time after time, intent on fulfilling her duty as an exorcist no matter how many times she would need to pick herself up off the ground.

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I've been a little worried about the way I'm writing Allen's character. More along the lines of nationality. I'm from the States, and I'm aware of the face that English people speak differently and use different words than the ones I'm accustomed to. Like saying "snog" instead of "kiss," and the typically American abuse of the word "fucking" and as for the British, "bloody." Up to now, I've been writing Allen's dialogue and just about every other character's as American, and somehow it doesn't seem right to me.

Any suggestions from the British readership on how I can make Allen's speech a little more British?


	46. The Start of Something New

Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray Man.

A/N: No, I'm not dead contrary to popular belief, and I haven't forgotten about this fic either. Caution for oocness since I haven't written or even read D. Gray Man manga for the longest time. And I know next to _nothing _about poker, being a total dunce at card games. The only thing I can play is, like, go fish.

There's a lot in this chapter, especially with how Allen's starting to become a little paranoid about the mission and Lavi. And how Kanda and Allen are trying to reconcile how they regard each other so that they could better work together.

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Ch 46. The Start of Something New

Allen Walker was many things.

1.) He was an Innocence wielder who could, as of recent, also use dark matter...the antithesis of an exorcist's weapon, supposedly only borne by the akuma.

2.) Fifteen years old, British in nationality. On the short side, still skinny, probably hitting puberty late or something along the lines to that effect. He was a _human_ being. Not an akuma. Which, as aforementioned, were the _only_ beings able to utilize dark matter by default of their unnatural origins.

3.) By extension of that fact, Allen Walker was out of the ordinary, something that was duly supported by his own even more dubious past involving a curse, white hair, and a father. (Kanda had always believed that he was some sort of an aberration, nonwithstanding the fact that possessing innocence was already an attribute of a supernatural quality.)

4.) He was glutton extraordinare, akuma-creator, Destroyer of Time, nitwitted sentimental dimbat, and General Cross's live-in-house help/cook/cronie/apprentice/butler/punching bag etc.

Yes, Allen Walker was many, many, many things: each singular little minute element of his existence formulating the empirical structure of who (or rather, _what_) everyone foolishly thought him to be: their Messiah, the one to remove the pestilence that was the Millennium Earl from the earth.

He was too much, way too many things for anyone to keep track of. Heh.

_'Female' _wasn't one of said things, as far as Kanda was aware of and glad of.

(Although, given recent events involving a leveled-up weapon and dark matter, there were many important details about Allen Walker that none of them were acquainted with, and thusly he shouldn't be trusted. And the kid was a walking contradiction- he killed akuma and claimed to love them.)

Although he was doing a really damned good impression of being a girl at the moment, enough to make Kanda look twice. He had to grudgingly admire that constant if foolhardy devotion to work.

It was Lavi who broke the silence when they came face to face with Lenalee and Miranda's hard work in Operation Lady, as they had courageously dubbed it. After a doubtful once-over, Kanda had come to the conclusion that Armageddon had come early, and the Destroyer of Time had been monumental in its coming.

Besides him, Lavi gave a low, disbelieving whistle.

Anyhow, he took all of five minutes less than Kanda to double-take in what he saw and react accordingly:

To the uncomfortable-looking dress.

(It was a frilly, lacey velvet thing that parodied a beached whale in its immensity and waste of expensive cloth; The skirt of the dress was huge and puffy and everywhere, no doubt supported by the numerous crinolines and petticoats and other more unmentionable items of feminine persuasion that Kanda certainly was _not_ going to think about.

The waist was tight and drawn around the hips and ribs so as to emphasize delicacy and an eye-pleasing form, in a saccharine mockery of the senses that asserted themselves upon his more conservative sensibility. He would have cringed in sympathy if not for the fact that it was the Beansprout after all, and thusly he was immune to any sympathy on his own part.)

To the short, wispy tendrils of newly brunette hair, a deep brown that shone where the light caught its every curve and wave. It framed white skin- not unappealingly, loathe as he would be to actually take notice of the sweet effect.

Kanda had been previously of the notion that the white hair had been au natural, although at the moment he was entertaining second thoughts. After all, the color looked quite fitting, quite complimentary to Allen's skin and actually bringing out a healthy, warmer tone that he wasn't aware was possible in such pale skin. While the whiteness had asserted the fragile freakiness that was normally attributed to the reputed Destroyer of Time, the brunette brought out the human in him.

In a very bad way, if it caused him to think a little harder about such an inferior specimen of existence as Allen Walker, and reminded him that he, too, was a human being capable of being hurt. A warm, more relatable side that wasn't anything about saving the world, and was all the same unforgettable just because of that particular, stubborn stance that the boy had taken in his personal philosophy of sentimentalism.

And the sudden appearance of breasts and hips and all sorts of feminine attributes that had no business on a boy's body. If he had any reservations about the nitwit's masculine pride, or lack of thereof- they were all true now.

In fact, it was very difficult for Kanda to disabuse himself of the notion that he was indeed gawping at a true flesh-and-blood human girl.

"Um…you look…_real_?" The Bookman-in-Training offered, as Kanda watched on in stunned surprise.

Lenalee's giggle and Miranda's polite coughing could be clearly heard in the dead silence that accompanied those words.

"….I mean,_ really _like a pretty girl. I mean, those hips and knockers look rather realistic- what are they, towels? Or cotton balls?..."

Miranda quietly excused herself, presumably to go off and have a good laugh somewhere private, so as not to offend the Beansprout's admittedly sensitive feelings. Kanda sighed at Lavi's prattling.

"…You look like your sister- you know, if you ever had one and if brown hair ran in your family…" Lavi's agitated, nervous voice trailed off at the Beansprout's bemused look. "…Ok, I'll shut up now."

Of course, Allen had only proved himself less worthy an exorcist, a man, as Kanda had always suspected. Even from a feminine boy, such….a picture of…._sissiness_ was not to be expected.

"I look like my nonexistent sister." Allen said dryly. "…I shall take that as a compliment, unless you meant otherwise."

Kanda choked.

It was like watching a train wreck, or some unfortunate accident of some sort- it paralyzed the body and yet enhanced every one of the senses, so that the watcher was horrified to find himself not being able to turn away, mesmerized in a totally macabre way. It was like making a parody of Kanda's own reaction: quickened heartbeat, throbbing seemingly so close to the surface of his hot skin. .

Good God- was that eyeliner and rouge the brat was sporting?

"We did do a good job with the makeup and everything, didn't we?" Lenalee commented proudly, cementing his fears.

He could never spar with Allen again. Any close contact for more than five minutes would cause him to break out into uncharacteristic vocal peals of _mirth _that would completely destruct his image as a cold person.

Or cause his mind to break, in a very, very bad way since there was nothing that he would like _less_ than to be confronted with the unpleasant sight or even idea of his annoying colleague cross-dressing.

Even if the boy should have been born a girl, since as disturbing as the change was to him he had to reluctantly admit that it appeared fairly fitting, as Lavi had unhelpfully pointed out as of previous.

In fact, Allen looked more like the really pretty kid that he was instead of the softhearted assuming _twat_ of an exorcist that he normally acted like, complete with unflappable self-righteousness.

Kanda sputtered at the thought of the word 'pretty' and 'Allen' in the same train of thought, feeling as if some unfortunate irreplaceable part of his poor much abused brain had just died on him for the second time that day, as he had tried several times and had failed to produce a single croak of horror and shock.

Ironic it certainly was, that he was beginning to see the attractiveness in said Twat that everyone was so charmed with. That was part of the innate charisma of the one said to be the Destroyer of Time, as strange as it was that such a harbinger of threats and war was in actuality a gentle, frail-looking person.

"Wh-guh-" Voicing his unflattering commentary from the sidelines was apparently something that he couldn't even do at the moment, so debilitated his mind was at seeing such a brain-rotting sight.

The slender, brunette…. _girl _visibly twitched at his effort, features much more delicate and just as tastelessly familiar as ever, even in their suddenly much more emphasized and apparent loveliness.

Kanda hadn't realized Allen's face was so delicate. Allen's features were refined and regular, and were set off all the better with the intense baby blues that had Lenalee in fits of infatuation.

He remembered that little red mouth, and all the times it was spitting out idealistic notions of saving people and akuma. On a completely different vein of thought, that mouth and those huge eyes had much more right belonging on a female instead of the male that Kanda thought he knew.

"…oh…_Stop_ looking at me like that!" The exorcist muttered crossly, British accent coming out much more strongly than usual. "Of _course_ I'll have to wear a bloody _dress_ if I'm posing as a woman!"

Of course, but Allen Walker was certainly not required to look perfectly _at home_ and as if he was actually a real, flesh-and-blood genuine woman in the dress. The prominent lack of difficulty he seemed to have in maneuvering around in a feminine attire was startling but somewhat in the back of his head not really unexpected.

If anything, the dress certainly fitted him and his slim form, better than any man's shirt could ever.

Kanda had credited himself with his blank, passive-aggressive initial reaction at first; It had been an effort to maintain the neutral expression he so favored. And then he took in the embarrassed flush and the huge _poofy_ thing that the younger exorcist seemed to be miserably modeling for the benefit of an unlikely fashion critique duo comprised of a mischievous Lenalee and an approving Miranda. The years and years of mental discipline hadn't saved him from cracking.

The Beansprout appeared frustrated with his response, or lack of thereof.

Lenalee and Miranda had uncharacteristically demonic expressions of mirth stamped on their faces, and behind him, Lavi was speechless and gagging on his own breath.

Kanda stalked over to the nearest horizontal surface, which happened to be a chair, and lowered himself down-

-only to encounter a multitude of unfortunately pointy objects, the force of which was directed up even more painfully because of the way gravity pressed him down…

"Don't sit on the pincushion. It's Miranda's." The Beansprout informed him needlessly.

Kanda counted to three and tried not to kill his pretend-bride.

"…You look awful." He commented, as callously and uncaringly as possible, removing the offending object with as much dignity as possible from under his aching posterior. And relishing the look of exasperation and chagrin on the younger exorcist's face.

"…You've always had funny taste, so I wouldn't really contest that. I'd be more concerned if you found me attractive." Allen replied mournfully. "If anything, your straight-cut fringe is an abomination to mankind."

…An abomination to mankind?

…And that naiveté and so-called idealism wasn't?

Lavi sounded as if he was gagging on his own spittle behind him, and Kanda made a mental note to suggest just _where_ he could stick his unwanted commentary.

Lavi was undiscerning when it came to women, and the Beansprout- male as he was and as unmale as he looked at the moment- had actually taken his aforesaid words as a compliment.

Allen turned to the dressing table he had apparently been posturing in front of, and picked through the miscellaneous oddities that lined the surface. Kanda blinked- was that _lipstick_?

Fascinated in a disgusted, peculiar, and definitely masochistic way, he stared at the small painted mouth, the tender crimson parted just so subtly as to reveal small white teeth. He thought that it was all affected.

"Apparently I have to teach you to play….so I have to find the cards…." Allen mumbled, bustling about and endangering the things on the table with the excessive motion of the huge, droopy sleeve-things that dangled off his elbows.

"I took it for safekeeping from your pants- Catch."

"Thanks, Lenalee. We'll have to see about putting pockets in the dresses, won't we." Allen said gratefully, skillfully emptying the pack with what looked like ease bred from repetition. Kanda watched apprehensively as a manicured hand- not the parasitic one, thank goodness- fanned the cards out. "Pockets are very good for hiding things in."

And with what looked like an extreme, unwarranted flourish, the cards curled into thin air as if they had never existed in the first place.

"Cheap tricks." Kanda asserted.

The Beansprout, eyes narrowed, swiftly snapped out the deck of cards back into existence out of thin air with a vicious yank, so that his sleeve made a sharp cutting sound, the lace whisking forward and backwards.

Not unlike the characteristic snapping sounds the sleeves of a hakama made with any quick movement, Kanda noted.

"You've proved that you have halfways decent reflexes." He said irritably. 'And luck."

"_Skill_. Mostly. And the fact that I'm underestimated ninety percent of the time. I'm an unlucky person, as you unfailingly have pointed out time after time." Allen said, an uncharacteristically metallic glint apparent in his kohl-highlighted eyes. He reached forward, and plucked what appeared to be a Joker from Miranda's ear with another blatant display of distracting flourishes "By the end of this week, you'll have to have some degree of proficiency in the manipulation of cards. I'm certain the gamblers that we're up against are no bumpkins."

Kanda scoffed at that.

Just how had they gotten into this predicament? He was going to kill Komui six times over before Allen got to him.

--

"You look awful."

That had been the first thing that he had told her, his face closed off and unreadable as usual, but with an additional sullenness. She wanted to laugh, but it caught in the back of her throat and she could only flush under his unrelenting stare, which seemed to hover between the disbelieving and the disgusted.

"…You've always had funny taste, so I wouldn't really contest that. I'd be more concerned if you found me attractive." Allen replied mournfully. "If anything, your straight-cut fringe is an abomination to mankind."

Even Master Cross, whose eye for fashion was notoriously flamboyant and flexible, would have taken ill.

As she undertook the very much unsavory task of teaching Kanda how to play cards, she came to the conclusion that he was not very well acquainted with certain aspects of western culture, in particular entertainment. Lavi had mentioned that he and Lenalee had played cards with him on more than one occasion, but Kanda was apparently not very fond of it or had forgotten everything about it.

So that was a problem. A very big one, considering that they were supposed to infiltrate a gambling ring.

But worst of all was the dynamics between them, or rather the appalling lack of goodwill. Sharing responsibility was one thing- among all the exorcists, Kanda was strangely the one that she would trust the most during a mission, if only for his competence and his ability to follow instructions to a T. Even if he did possess a disturbing habit of refusing to do anything beyond the margins of the mission brief, and his unwillingness to assume any bit of compassion for helpless victims.

That was what she found so...wrong with the Order itself: how it could eschew feeling from duty, when feeling was the very best motivation. Certainly, it was practical to do so and avoid any personal connections that could lead to distractions in the field or senses of frustration over their failure to protect those already killed by akuma.

But Kanda was the epitome of iciness, and that did not at all mesh with her vision of duty as an exorcist- for the people, above all.

His impersonal attitude would make their subterfuge all the harder. Allen had observed Cross and his many female companions on more than one occasion, and while the general was detached from romantic attachments and focused on the sexual aspects of his relationships with those women, he could never achieve that level of aloofness with which Kanda carried in his interactions with _everyone, _and not even a romantic partner.

How on earth was she- they- going to pull such a fake front off? Whatever crack Komui was on, he had to stop smoking it because assigning she and Kanda Yuu to masquerade as a married couple was one the stupider things that she'd heard from him yet.

And even then, Allen already knew that even if Kanda was able to act the part, she herself would not be able to. To do so was to relegate herself to that absurd, submissive position of a commonplace wife. British women in high society were not exactly known for their strength- other than the fictional Elizabeth Bennett. She'd never had that sort of protected upbringing, to be sheltered and carefully tended to with the utmost patience and care so that she would someday be married off into a good family of good standing, and take her place in the salon or some other location where social circles gathered as a functioning member of the more gentile class. A delicate little butterfly, lovely and fluttering but little more than an object to be displayed and bragged about.

Allen could never resign herself to that sort of existence, no matter how temporary and no matter how brain-deadeningly _novel_ it would be for a short while. It was ironic, that she would be playing that sort of position- a role that was notable for how sheltered it was- and still be on one of the most dangerous missions she had been on yet. It was truly going into the metaphorical lair of evil, Tyki Mick's domain, where there was no safe place for two exorcists. Doubly ironic was the face that the Destroyer of Time would be parading around in an absurd gussied-up image complete with lipstick and dress and heels.

Allen had been deprived of such feminine creature wants, and suddenly desiring them now made no sense, inasmuch as it was her first and possibly only opportunity to enjoy them. It was not weak- in spite of every derogatory comment that existed based off the notion that women were the weaker sex, she could not find the strength within herself to accept that, as much as she wanted to.

And having Kanda, a flesh-and-blood male, besides her only served to isolate and intensify that contrast and that example of stereotypical strength that was so prevalent and yet so biased and _untrue_ and yet was hammered into everyone's heads in the name of gender roles since they were old enough to understand differences and inequality.

And even then, how was she to treat him? And he her? He thought of her as he would regard a vaguely annoying object, and she couldn't see past the open hostility he presented to her and just about everyone else. Their personalities didn't work well together in the first place, and no doubt would cause much trouble under the tension of keeping up false appearances that were completely fabricated in one of the worst ways possible for the two worst people to actually try to maintain that sort of appearance in public.

And yet, there was that longing to prove that being a woman was not weak, even when in opulent attire that clearly and quite elegantly stated their more…domestic, more docile roles in their households.

Character had value. She just hoped she had enough of it, as well as willpower and a steady supply of patience, to prove herself.

--

The Beansprout was a _slavedriver_.

As an exorcist, he was….unacceptable in temperament and views. As a card-player, however, he was not quite as softhearted.

No. the kid was downright _vicious_, taking no draw nor quarter, and easily taking the first ten or so games of poker that they had played. Seeing him play Tyki Mick was one thing, but to actually experience that sort of cheating competence and sly mind game playing outright in person was a completely different thing altogether.

In fact, if he was able to muster up half as much vehemence for slaying akuma as he did when cheating the money right out of pockets, Allen Walker would have possessed one of the order's greatest successful individual mission rates.

Expansive, telling gestures enfolded as subtly as possible in long, laced-up sleeves dripping generously with embellishments like ribbons. For a moment, Kanda frowned, noticing that the brat had evidently seen fit to endow himself with an entirely different manner altogether- somewhat more graceful, somewhat more refined and feminine, very suited to his masquerade. Hard on the heels of that observation was that it seemed a little too innate to be…natural. Contradiction- he was used to that in the destroyer of time, though in a much less confounded way.

Or maybe it was just the attire. It drew more attention to details that he would have otherwise very happily ignored.

And Kanda wasn't exactly taking like a fish to water on the many methods of cheating that Allen had introduced in rapid succession. The complexity of the game, added to the distraction that was already posed by the very much disturbing change on Allen's part, eluded his grasp.

Apparently, they were supposed to work together ('collusion' Allen had termed it) to win. This meant signaling each other, raising and reraising, and all sorts of stuff that was frankly speaking, below him and worked to offend his sense of propriety that he was working with a lowly criminal-brat that had nothing better to do than strip people down to their underwear in games.

"…Like this?"

"…Keep your hands closer to you, unless you mean for the person sitting next to you to see them." Allen told him. "In that case, make sure you're not sitting next to Mick."

Kanda obligingly adjusted, brows knitted.

Pretentious little twit. Overcompensating for his inability to deal with his own emotional attachment to his duty as an exorcist by covering it all up with that stupid, infernal smile.

A very fake, pretty smile, softened and plumped with rouge, and glistening with that sweet unmistakable luster of true innocence. Kanda raised an eyebrow in surprise; The boy truly appeared like a girl, begging for unwholesome attention from some cad, what with that truly tempting way Lenalee had seen fit to draw the eye to the delicate features with subtle touches of makeup. Perhaps the brat would actually play the part well.

"…Your grip is too tight on the cards. There is no ease nor fluidity in your movements." Allen sighed, apparently frustrated despite all, as Kanda fumbled and took out the wrong card once more. "And you need to keep track of all your cards, so you can bring them into the game when you need to. If you're going to substitute the queen of diamonds for the two of diamonds, you need to make sure that you know where you have it concealed on your person and you need to remember that it's the queen of _diamonds_ and not the _spades _or whatever."

"…"

"…You need to work on the poker face."

"…"

"Too…_angry_?" Allen said, gentling the words into a question as if he didn't want to offend Kanda.

"….!"

"Even worse. If you have a frightful expression all the time, you'll scare people from raising."

"…"

"You can't forget what cards are already in the game! If all the aces in every suit already is distributed among the players, common sense entails that you do not bring another ace in, or substitute another ace."

Surprisingly, Allen was a rather tough taskmaster, even when attired in less than intimidating apparel that clung and followed curves that were previously not there and by all rights shouldn't be there, fake as they were.

They looked real. Kanda swallowed hard, mouth dry with disbelief and not a little uneasiness.

The younger exorcist leaned forward, and Kanda watched him deftly palm the cards into submission; navigate them to strategic areas for manipulation. The boy tucked a stray brown curl back behind the shell of his left ear, leaving the Japanese exorcist to realize one more thing.

He wasn't going to ask just why there were twin pearl earrings dangling from the lobes, little sparkling specks of cream set in silver that shone elusively against pale skin.

(Although he grudgingly recognized the brat's bravery; Lavi had screamed and cursed fit to raise the dead-not pun intended- when he had his own ears pierced.)

Allen fanned out his own cards. Two hands later, Allen once more saw fit to reveal what he had in his possession and Kanda realized not without little shock that the crappy hand Allen had before shouldn't have gotten him that royal flush, and that the crappy hand just wasn't crappy anymore….

"You see, I'm a hand mucker by nature- I switch cards around by sleight-of-hand." The British exorcist explained, infuriatingly simplifying it down with layman's terms.

"I know, damn you. I believe you're the one that has a trouble keeping the cards in hand." He knew too well, all too well. Allen must have remembered the incident upon the train, for he blushed and hastily proceeded with the long-winded explanation.

"Tyki Mick is a card-marker. He has sharp eyes like that, to mark the back of cards and thusly keep track of them."

"Che. And how is this relevant?"

"I think my hand gives me an added advantage in the way it moves- being parasitic innocence, its physiology is similar to that of a human but with added benefits of better motion. Since we're going to be in unfamiliar territory, I think it's safe to assume that we can't cull- well, get the good cards out from the deck ourselves before they're dealt- and that they'll be doing it. Which leaves us to umm…use other measures."

"Your point being?" Kanda ground out.

"Lenalee said that you failed the Order mandated statistics course." Allen explained sadly. "I think you'll have a bit of trouble with learning how to play cards on basis of using probability to predict hands. So I think you'll need to learn how to muck as well."

...muck?

"I know that it won't come so easily got you, but at least try...I mean, adding a mechanical pincer under your sleeve is a bad idea since our opponents are all experienced cheaters, but-"

"Just shut up and teach me already." Kanda snarled.

"Lunch, anybody?" Miranda asked, giving him the opportunity for the respite he thought he wouldn't need.

"We'll be there." Allen agreed.

"…Speak for yourself, glutton." Kanda snapped at him.

Allen shrugged, standing up and accidentally knocking the frame of his dress against the chair leg with an audible crack. Something must have gave, because Kanda heard the metallic ping of a screw coming loose and hitting the floor. The hoop dress popped out and up in a most indecent fashion towards the side which he had slid off the chair, revealing a length of long, smooth leg.

….The cards fluttered out from the dress, from various places where they had been securely tucked away.

"Wearing women's clothes isn't exactly a pastime that I indulge in frequently, so you'll have to excuse my…errors." Allen muttered dryly.

He should just commit seppuku already.

"Che. Ladies first." Kanda replied sardonically, gesturing at the door with a faint smirk.

Allen stalked out ahead of him, aswish with indignation.

--

"Allen-kun."

"Eh?" She cocked her head towards Lenalee.

"Dress."

"What about the dress?"

"When you sit, smooth it beneath you before you sit. And for God's sake, watch out."

"Wait-what do you mean by-oof!"

Any trained reflex and/or athletic maneuvers were promptly rendered useless as the hard, steel hoop-dress popped up to hit her chin, sending pretty colorful stars fluttering in every which direction of her vision. Needless to say, she uttered some pretty colorful words herself, that were most definitely not in the standard English lexicon, and were the culmination of years of gambling in the morally ambiguous regions of cities.

"Language, language. Try again." Lenalee said sympathetically. "They're all the rage now, hoop dresses. They support all the material and push into a structured shape."

Allen ignored Kanda's quiet snort, and groaned as the skirt of the dress went completely over the chair she had approached. The damned thing seemed to insist on sticking in extreme directions and never staying put, in the contrary fashion of unpredictable, unpractical haute couture.

Lunch was a tense affair. Compounded manifold by the fact that neither partners seemed rather inclined to work with each other. Admittedly, it was certainly childish, if not unprofessional, of her to continue to verbally spar with him; It was encouraging him, since he would never back down. And so neither would she. The only comfort that she could take in the hour-long lunch was that her master was not present to aggravate the situation (given his poor opinion of both she and Kanda) and that she could eat.

"Tyki Mick is never to be trusted- are you a blind fool to listen to him bait you?"

"So you question my competence to execute my own part- I will not drag you down- I will not to let myself be a liability, but you seem intent on making yourself one to this mission by adamantly refusing to acknowledge my role in this, in working with you." Allen hissed back, taking a bite of her liberally buttered roll. "I know that it's a trap- set up for me."

"And so you walk right into it?"

"Not _blindly_! That's the entire bloody point. You do realize that it's a mission from Chief Komui, do you not?"

The scientist's judgment was doubtful at best, even if once in a while he did arrive at some rather insightful conclusions, but that was only on a good day and only when inspiration slapped him straight in the face from the most ordinary things.

"Allen- napkin. There's sauce on the dress." Lenalee reminded her.

She couldn't refrain from wildly devouring what was set before her, not when she had been deprived for quite some time. "How am I supposed to control my appetite when I have a parasitic weapon?"

"There are methods- Bookman jiji mentioned it before, I think. There are several alternatives- some more unpleasant than others, and I think you'll be best off sticking with some sort of supplement to a normal-sized diet. After all, you wouldn't want to compromise your weapon even if you won't be using it much. You're not the first exorcist to face this problem, it's just somewhat rare since most exorcists are equipment type."

Leave it to Lavi to provide unlimited, extensive information.

"Lavi, as an apprentice Bookman, do you know anything about '_Rakuen_?'" The British exorcist purposely dropped, pleasantly, as if in a light conversation. The Japanese word she made sure to mangle into something that was nearly beyond recognition.

"Ra-ku-en?" Lavi sounded, apparently understanding and breaking the syllables out carefully, if not biting them out a little too much like a beginner's stiff-tongued answer.

Too quickly- the swift flash of something akin to an uncharacteristically cool calm, before it melted away just as sporadically into a look of wide-eyed confusion that was much less zen, and much more Lavi. Allen's mouth set into a tight-lipped line.

The hard, narrow-eyed look Kanda had in his eyes exemplified his interest, although he did not say so. "As in 'heaven..'"

"Rakuen? What is that?" Miranda asked, posing the question that Allen had pondered throughout her entire transformation into her disguise.

"I don't know." Allen said innocently. "I was hoping Lavi could tell me- could you?"

"I wish I could, but I can't. Bookman might know more, though." Lavi told her apologetically. "If it's something that you absolutely must know, I can check with him tonight when I report to him.

So he would divert her to his mentor. In any other person, she'd probably have hypothesized such an action as either buying more time or an unnecessary, empty promise that could easily be procrastinated.

Which, by ambit, only meant that Lavi had an ulterior motive.

Or she was still sick with a fever and was thinking odd, odd things, no thanks to her Master who had inspired many strange, new thoughts in her mind.

"Will you please do so?" she requested politely, banishing to the nether reaches of her conscience that twinge of guilt for trying to pry into something that Cross had specifically ordered her not to.

"I'll do that, then."

Allen blinked. There was no other questions from him, as if he had already known her motive. Complying with a request so easily was not right, not for curious, insatiable, cheerful Lavi who really wasn't so cheerful anymore as of late.

"Any leads or hints on what it is?" Lavi asked glibly, shoveling down a whole sausage. "-Aack!"

Good ol' Lavi, even if she was, as Cross said, deluding herself.

"And here I thought Allen was the only one who needed to be taught dining etiquette." Lenalee sighed, as Allen grinned sheepishly and passed the redhead the water pitcher.

But Allen wanted and needed to trust him.

Inasmuch as her master had warned her to trust none, and to feel for none. She took her recent wariness as something fostered by her master's warnings- Cross was a man given to vigilance and conspiracy theories and paranoia, and well did he do so because of the many threats made on the life of a general and cad. (It was a wonder he didn't impregnate someone already and had suffered legal repercussions from it.)

After all, and emotional obligations she might have towards anybody or even towards her own life's career as an exorcist were...irrelevant. It was tantamount to betraying herself and her friends.

"I've never heard of it. Well, you learn something new every day." Lenalee commented cheerfully. "Watch the sleeve, Allen."

The British exorcist lifted said part of garment a little higher up so that it cleared her soup bowl when she reached for her glass. "Just something I overheard from Timcanpi's recording. It was full of static and the visual and the audio must have been somewhat impaired, so that was the only bit I was able to hear."

Too defensive. She sipped at the water, swallowing both the cool liquid and the silence that dominated afterwards, taking both into her body and thinking: this is harder than I thought.

"There's a lot I wish I knew-being a Bookman must have its advantages, right?"

"I think it's my visual strengths and my memory that help me, y'know. And then the studying." Lavi told her. "Always the studying. Although, there are things that….we just don't study about yet."

"Like what?"

"…This and that. It's because of time constraints."

"So you choose not to study them? Like 'Rakuen'?"

"Nope, not entirely…" Lavi murmured from a mouthful of more sausage. "…we just don't know about it."

There was a lot of Lavi's bemused expression that was true- Bookman or not, Lavi's face was very expressive in the most minute of ways that she otherwise wouldn't have been able to catch. A singular flicker was not enough, not from one like Lavi, but it was not undetectable that the older exorcist's mental processes had been stirred by the seemingly careless mention.

People had their secrets. Marian Cross, for one- he would not tell her what rakuen was. "I admit- this is something I am very well acquainted with. But I can't tell you." he had flung at her during his conversation as of previous, without his normal put-upon sigh regarding her lack of experience and her idealism. That part of her personality irritated him slightly, like it did one other certain and lower-ranked exorcist. Inasmuch as they disapproved of each other, Kanda was different in that he would never keep a secret from her for the reason of protecting her, simply because he did not have that sort of capacity or assuming, altruistic tendency.

"Well, Bookman jiji is in some library in the Mediterranean, studying something or the other. I'll tell you tomorrow what I've got from him."

"I'd appreciate that." Allen said, thinking that Lavi was trying too hard, and left it at that.

Lavi's inclinations, surprisingly, were even more uncertain than her Master's. Allen had been told that the position of Bookman did not accommodate the motives of exorcists, and thusly the two role he had to play would sooner or later conflict; The conclusion that she had drawn was nebulous, at best.

That was to be pondered and reflected upon in the relative safety of a more solitary place, with perhaps only her Master and Timcanpi as company to bounce ideas off, even if the former was more interested in the lovely female populace of Vienna.

With the ending of lunch came the beginning of yet another prolonged session of reconciliation between the mental concept of her role and then, actuality. After all, there was the dress, earrings, heels, and makeup…and then there was the exorcist within that knew what had to be done.

You're overreacting. Edmund's appearance when she had believed in renouncing all ties to her past, Cross's words of caution warning her not to trust anyone especially herself, and Tyki's sudden hint….

…She was getting too complacent, too stupid, too unproductive and unprogressive in fulfilling her role.

"Is this relevant to the mission?"

Many people, apparently even Kanda, had been abusing that word lately. 'Relevant.' She couldn't even take offense at it.

"I'm not entirely sure." She said lightly. "Of course, we haven't and won't be briefed on it. Just something that I heard here and there, from various other sources."

"What were those 'various other sources?'"

Allen blinked, somewhat startled that it was Lenalee asking, although apparently Lavi had opened and shut his mouth as if he had thought better of asking. The familiar furrow was back between the Chinese exorcist's eyebrows, and Allen could nearly hear the unspoken reproach that once more, she was keeping _more_ secrets from them.

"…I can't say."

"Are you sworn to secrecy?"

"My um…discretion demands it."

"And I suppose that's some polite, Allen way of saying that you don't think you should tell us." _Again_, unspoken.

Allen winced, fully well knowing that Lenalee intended to use the guilt factor as her trump card, and that her very own nature could never stand for that, not really. Or rather it would, but her conscience would pain her for days after.

"One of those sources included my master, so I know my information is more or less credible, even if he's…nevermind. It's nothing."

"A womanizing slacker, we all know." Lavi said, sotto voice. "So this is just a lead that you find worth investigating. Well, it's something to follow up on when you get to England…although it beats me why it'd be a Japanese word, ne, Yuu-chan?"

"Don't fucking call me that." Said exorcist snarled. "And how would I know?"

"Let's just say that it's a hint that was purposely given to me, and it's that which makes me all the more uneasy about this mission."

She frowned. Rakuen.

"Rakuen" had something to do with England, that much she knew. Tyki knew about "Rakuen," and wanted her to find him there, if that was what he meant by giving her a clue on where he was. Cross knew about Rakuen, but refused to give so much as a peep regarding it, and while he was a harsh master to obey, she didn't in the very least doubt that he had her best interests in mind. (Inasmuch as she didn't approve. At all.)

As far as she was concerned, only she and Cross were acquainted with the lead; However, she was rethinking that aspect already. Rakuen was a Japanese word in origin, and Kanda was also Japanese. Komui had insisted on pairing them together, when perhaps she and Lavi would have been a better idea. Was the hint something already known by the Order when the mission was issued from their superiors? How coincidential that she seemed to fit the mission so perfectly as Mrs. Kingsley's long-lost daughter, as if the task had been tailored for her. And how coincidential that she was an excellent card player, very well placed to infiltrate a gambling ring of all things. It seemed as if the circumstances were specific in forging a connection to her, and would need her participation.

And while Lavi seemed to be not very familiar with the word, the way he had nearly exaggerated his ignorance of it seemed a bit preposterous considering how she knew for a fact Kanda had taught him a bit of Japanese and thusly sounding it out wouldn't have been difficult.

"Rakuen"- As in heaven. She wasn't exactly sure if the connotation meant that she and Tyki would kill each other there, but she would have thought that a Noah believed more in hell than anything else.

Secrets, secrets. It was as if she had only uncovered this new side, this new layer of the people she was around and trusted on a daily basis. Allen couldn't possibly unsay what had already been said, and now would have to bear their questions on something that she only recognized now as something that she should follow up on her own.

No-one volunteered information, and most likely most people she knew had no clue whatsoever. Those who did, kept mum. And the one who she trusted most, her master, wanted to protect her from it.

Cross had never sheltered her from the more dubious of things in life, especially gambling, so whatever Rakuen was, it mustn't have been good.

When they adjoined their brief lunch session, Allen wasn't prepared to have Kanda grab her arm and stop her as everyone left for whatever they were respectively doing.

"What, may I so inquire, are you doing?" She asked him frostily, wondering if stomping on his foot with the relatively sharp heel of her shoe would wipe that stone-cold expression off his face.

"We need to talk. About the mission. And without those infernal inspired idiots loitering around like flies." He spat at her.

"Really. So suddenly you want to work together? But _I_ have nothing to say to you other that the fact that I will try to do my best to work with you, even if you drive me insane."

"Che, I don't intend to be dragged down by you. But I do think that you're withholding information that could be crucial to the mission in London."

"If this is about "Rakuen," don't ask me. I wish I knew, but I simply do not." She said wearily. "Quite frankly speaking, I don't know what possessed me to say that back there, although admittedly I do want answers and I'm not getting them."

Kanda looked dissatisfied. "Hmph, I don't care- as far as I'm concerned the devil possessed you, but what I-"

"Is this about trust?" Allen asked plainly. "The devil, eh? It isn't a crime to want someone beloved back. An akuma is damned, certainly, but love isn't. Never love."

There was things she wasn't aware of, regarding him. His family was Buddhist, Lenalee had said, reminding her that he too had a family, just as she did- abet only newly discovered.

But most of all, Allen could not possibly see why she was so stupid that she had to retain all of her….annoyance towards who he was to her, especially not when she knew, she knew that she _had such ability to __**kill **__for mere strangers, how she could easily embrace an akuma and forgive it because it was akuma and because she knew what it was like, to suffer so much that she'd sold her soul to the devil just to see a beloved one just once more. _

She had no idea, just why she **loved** so _deeply _and so _hard_ for people she had absolutely no bond with other than the shared curse of knowing what it was like to die and to suffer.

And still, even as her own pretentious ego and motivations martyred her by her so-called heroic actions in the field, she couldn't even let go of her petty exasperation and accommodate _him, her own comrade_ without question.

"Che. I don't trust you." Kanda said, not looking at her. Allen cocked her head, unsure of whether or not he refused to glance her way because he was, like her, uncomfortable with her appearance.

There it was, all out there- the singular attitude that he had regarding her from day one, based on nothing more than the fact that he hadn't taken a liking to her and she was easy to be prejudiced against. On that day when she arrived exhausted and confused at the closed gates of the black tower, Allen Walker had made an enemy.

Oh, the fallacies of human prejudice and nature, and how innocently she had fanned that fire for so long with her own oddity, and the way she nearly encouraged it by her own indiscretions, the ways she had accidentally and purposely made herself so _easy to hate_, and so easy to love all at once.

Let go of your resentment, she told herself, taking a deep breath. However it still came out petty and inflammatory.

"You don't trust me. I know that already. Is that all you're going to say to me? If so, this conversation is closed." Allen tugged the full skirt up, about to leave, when he slammed the door shut. She never had realized what an extraordinary shade of black his pupils were, when they were ablaze with intent and alight with a coolness that made him seem somewhat….dependable.

"I'm not finished yet."

There was much to be hated about Kanda Yuu: that temper, that prejudice, that demeaning contentious way he treated everyone, the complete disregard he had for others' feelings and their sacrifices in a war they were fighting as much as he was, and then the complete lack of compassion.

But in a way, Allen could easily grudgingly recognize his nearly unsurpassed ability to take responsibility on a mission and carry it out flawlessly. And there was the unwavering drive to improve his skills, something that she admittedly lacked apart from the standard exercises that she mechanically utilized each day.

She could have laughed with relief. The truth, that goddamned truth, she had known for so long and yet was something that only the socially-distant Kanda had the gall to say directly to her face like the tactless, direct person that he was.

"Speak, then." The British exorcist regarded him calmly.

"I don't care how you're dressed- you're still a damned exorcist. We're both liable for both success and failure."

"So we're a team now." She couldn't resist saying, to be cut short with a glare.

"No. Only you and that sis-con thinks so."

"I will not be a liability, dress or not." Allen stated clearly, and then added, although it pained her to sound so dependent, "But if my fighting will blow my cover and compromise the mission, I _will_ expect you to defend me. Normally, that's what gentlemen do."

"-Only if necessary. But when it is time to drop our blasted act...Don't rely on me for protection and I won't rely on you." The latter portion was said in a mocking tone.

Of course, then it would be back to the status quo both of them were so familiar with. The strangest thing was that she knew she _could_ trust him because of that, because he didn't expect her to be the Destroyer of Time (given his rather low opinion of her) and he would refuse to be close to her, and so she had no opportunity to unintentionally hurt him with who she was.

Unlike Lenalee. Unlike Lavi. Unlike Miranda and Crowley and Jerry and everyone else, because they _cared_ about her and he didn't.

_She could trust him because she knew that he didn't think as if he knew what was best for her, and he hated too much about her and didn't care enough to be hurt by her. _

How was it now that Allen Walker only felt that Kanda Yuu had the capacity to be her greatest _friend_ in addition to his status in her eyes as her most irritating colleague?

And perhaps, the safest friend considering the fact that people who cared about her normally met bad ends.

"You don't trust me either, Beansprout."

"Clever observation." Allen hissed at him. "I don't trust anyone. Especially myself."

She dimly recalled telling Lenalee the same words, in the same vehement tone when she was being confronted on why she was keeping her identity a secret. However, with the Japanese exorcist it was different because she wasn't able to garner a reaction apart from irritation or cold indifference.

"Hmph, as if I care. As long as I'm not the only one who distrusts you."

"We don't have to be friends, you know." She told him tentatively, all at once terrified of losing the slight gain she had made in communication with him. "But at least, I think we can be civil."

"Che," Was all he said, and she could only wait to see what he meant by that. However, it looked as if it was the start of something new and familiar for both of them, and perhaps they wouldn't fight so much anymore, even if it would be at first difficult to become accustomed to not thinking of the other in derogatory terms.

She watched him walk across the room to leave, somewhat relieved that where they stood with other had been defined so clearly. Treacherous as it was to her more…alright, softhearted side, she was thankful that she wouldn't have to care about him.

At the very least things were looking somewhat up, and she and Kanda were actually talking, something unheard of as of previous since he'd communicate in resentful monosyllables. However, that notion was shattered two minutes later when a violently and loudly protesting Kanda was herded back in by an excited-looking Lenalee and violin-holding Lavi, and the dining table was pushed aside to clear a large empty space in the middle of the room.

"You play the violin?" Allen asked Lavi, intrigued.

"There's a lot that you don't know about me, y'know." Lavi said, starting to tune the instrument up with the air of someone who knew very well what he was doing, his fingers alternately turning the pegs.

"Well, should we start on the waltz?" Lenalee suggested.

--

Please read and review as usual, thank you veyr much. Some input on how Allen and Kanda are progressing towards not hating each other? At the moment it's nearly totally platonic, although Kanda is realising that Allen is a really pretty kid...as a girl.


	47. One Step Forward

A/N: Will probably be revamping the first eleven chapters. Since they're not quite up to par. And perhaps a title change- Real Smile simply doesn't cut it anymore as a title, and the story went way beyond what I thought it would have originally been.

--

Ch 27. One Step forward

Allen talks and is blunt, Kanda does not want to get the point, and nothing is resolved other than the eminent fact having been established that they would have to put up with each other as it was. And that in itself _is_ good enough for Allen.

Self-conceit. That was what he was thinking.

They dance- if it is dance at all- and that is just it, and the boundaries already are set and enforced by their wary circling.

Allen walked off from the waltz with a migraine twitching in her temples, a vague sort of shivery heaviness settling in her bones, and a ripped dress in need of some mending on Miranda's part- there was no way in hell that she was going to push a little piece of pointy metal through fabric for the next few hours or so.

-That was most definitely a streak of gold, a sliver of the sun that had transgressed on the otherwise obscured, darkened atmosphere of official order business.

Allen cocked her head, lifting an eyebrow. "..Edmund?"

--

The Beansprout sucked. He could have actively sucked a little less, but he lacked rhythm. Grace, certainly, was in Allen's favor; He at the very least more or less had found his center of balance, and would have moved fluidly if not for the fact that his lump of a dress trailed his every step and clung to his person in a uncomfortably tight way. So the brat was alternately clumsy and self-conscious, and both were less than winning traits to display on the ballroom floor.

But if Kanda had known in advance that they were going to dance, he would have hightailed it out of the Stephansdom to obligingly run some obscure errand a long time ago, pride be damned. Case being that he wasn't informed of the impending lesson, he deigned to delay himself in staying behind to have a few choice words with the imbecile accompanying him on his mission.

"I don't trust anyone. Especially myself." The Beansprout had vehemently retorted, obviously panning for something else to say, but only managing with a hissed declaration that at any other time he would have regretted saying.

Kanda had immediately heard the underlying edge of bitterness, the words slipping off Allen's tongue so easily, as though he truly believed it and had used it on more than one occasion. To whom?- Lavi? Or even Lenalee, since he did get on well with her and she looked to get on better with him, or so his observations had led him to conclude.

But it was the first time he had seen Allen admitting to inadequacy, as much as he himself scoffed at open displays like that.

"Regrets? You have time to think about regrets?" He wanted to say.

Or, "Your own demons are your own to slay-" Not that he ever waxed poetic in the tradition of angst as an art form. "-so don't make it anyone else's burden."

But the brat was already fairly close-mouthed about any of the numerous troubles that plagued him.

He should just convince Allen to take up Iaido, or some other such discipline that trained one's mental presence, or something along the lines to that effect. Or maybe mediatation- he wasn't exactly sure how Allen would fare with traditional Japanese weaponry.

Allen sighed a little, and broke their stare first; He caught his lower lip with his teeth, and Kanda watched the lipstick rub off bit by bit, tantalizingly subtly gently- the crimson in shocking relief against white, and the Japanese exorcist resisted the urge to make a comment about parasitic types being gluttons and eating makeup.

Allen didn't trust himself. Why was that a revelation? Inasmuch as the Beansprout seemed overly assuming at times, given his faith in humanity and his importance as an individual exorcist to save people...wouldn't common sense entail that he held as much stock in knowing that his own decisions were correct?

It would be worse than counterproductive, to do everything to the best extent, and still be indecisive on whether or not it was worth it in the first place.

_He truly and deeply meant it, _Kanda knew with the sudden shock of revelation. The twat was sincere and nearly sad, and the underlying pulse of resentment was too raw and strong to be fabricated. However, there was gain in presenting such a weakness to another party, so as to provide an obvious area to strike at. More devious purposes would be to deliberately expose it, for the enemy to take advantage of only to find that it was no weakness at all.

_Was that Allen's true intention?_

It was not. Allen was too committed to exorcism, and that in itself was not a front. That was the only thing that Kanda could possibly appreciate about the Beansprout, even if he could find fault with all else.

But Allen knew that_ he_ was wary, if nobody else was, and indeed Kanda was more watchful than an eagle and less deluded by polite niceties, and much more hardhearted against reason colored by maudlin regards.

And it boiled back down to the distilled and concentrated fact that no, he did not trust Allen Walker and that was not a good thing to occur considering that they were...partners.

"Hmph, as if I care. As long as I'm not the only one who distrusts you."

He could have nearly seen the wheels turning in Allen's newly dyed brunette head- it was tilted to one side, and currently immersed in the one activity that he'd been seeing the British exorcist do a little more of recently: thinking. (That in itself was very unusual, and it would be quite an improvement if it actually occurred a little more often- especially _before_ the softhearted exorcist threw himself into the thick of fighting akuma.)

How absolutely _convenient_ it was for Allen to be paired with someone who didn't care about him, so naturally he would have no obligation to care much for Kanda himself, even if he would want to play the martyr and be _friends._

Obligation. Heh. Obligation.

Since when had Armageddon rolled around and Allen Walker, sensitive martyr of epic porportions, began to operate on obligation?

No, he was certain it was all misplaced heart that had the kid doing what he did. The sad thing was, Kanda wasn't at all skeptical of his good intentions- he really did mean for the very best, and that was just….sad.

"We don't have to be friends, you know, but we _can_ be civil." The British exorcist said, hesitantly and softly, although Kanda suspected that he _did _actually want to be friends, that sickeningly sweet and honorary title he bestowed on just about everyone. To make another conquest, another addition to his collection of people who worshiped his heart of gold: they were in love with the _idea_ of Allen Walker, not so much the person himself.

Good God, what a weakling, but it was necessary to work with him and he had just about that much grudging respect for duty.

Moreover, civility was overrated. He wasn't an advocate for brawn in any sense of the notion, but 'respectable' talk was irritatingly slow and ineffective, and caused little incentive for anyone to obediently oblige.

_Upon what self-preserved and self-declared point of perfection did the little twat base his insistences off? _Kanda thought that to himself as he made his own way out, leaving the younger exorcist standing there…alone and perhaps a little forlorn, although he could easily glimpse the relief there on his face and be disgusted by it.

This intolerable conceit did not lie in self-esteem, at the very least not completely. The boy must have given up most of his self-respect the day he made his father into an akuma, and yet he had such an ego- as understated it was with his polite demeanor- and never failed to flaunt that sense of _righteousness_ and _piety_ and _goodwill_ and all that absolute bullshit.

It reeked, positively reeked, of moral superiority and that was unforgivable.

Who were they, who was he, this condemned child, to offer judgment and absolution in the same breath, upon everyone else?

Vanity, yes, human _vanity_- perhaps the biggest flaw that the Destroyer of Time possessed, and what most loved him for: that overblown sense of _self-sacrifice_. Love had no bearing on duty, and thusly expanding the definition of the motive to exorcise other than just simply _because_ was preposterous.

That much was all Kanda allowed to muse upon, before Lenalee and Lavi enthusiastically ambushed and pounced upon him and seized his arms in vise-like grips, ushering him back into the room where Allen still was in.

"Shall we start with the waltz?" Lenalee suggested sweetly, being the complete devil that she was in lambskin, and Kanda noticed a look of abject horror pass over Allen's face. The look that the two younger exorcists exchanged was something that Kanda was unable to read, and he wasn't so bored as to ask Lenalee just what was going between her and Allen, since they had been acting a little…odd around each other ever since Lenalee had arrived with General Cross. Allen looked downright miserable, and Lenalee was just...Kanda just sighed.

"I think you're both obviously uncomfortable with physical contact with each other." Lenalee murmured softly to him, while Allen and Lavi chattered about instruments or some dratted insignificant topic along the lines to that effect. "Not that _that_ can't be remedied."

(_I didn't know you played the violin,_ Allen remarked uselessly to Lavi in the background.)

"He's a _brat_. And _male_ at that.."

...And didn't _she _like him in her own fashion?

And no, he wasn't going any further down that particular trail of thought. It'd be too traumatizing and ridiculous for words.

Lenalee regarded him with amused, dancing dark eyes. "And I didn't mean it _that_ way. Of course not. Did you think I did? You'd be disturbed if you did, not that you aren't already. So unfortunately for you you'll have to get over your innate revulsion of him."

("_There's a lot you don't know about me, y'know_." Lavi cheekily replied.)

He only grunted in acknowledgment, frustrated.

"Don't be so prickly- he's trying his best, really, to be nice, ever since you met him and threatened to slice him open." The accursed girl said kindly. "He doesn't like you any more than you like him, but he's trying hard not to hold that against you. So you should too- don't let him show you up as an exorcist."

"Appealing to my sense of competitiveness will not work, Lenalee. I have no intention of entering into any sort of rivalry with him."

He wouldn't lower himself down to that level.

("_Unfortunately, I lack musical talent."_ Allen mourned. "_My only talent is consuming food. I can win contests, really."_)

"Well," Lenalee said, matter-of-factly, as if she didn't find it disturbing at the very least. "He's at the very least rather lovely in that disguise of his, so you're rather lucky."

If that was supposed to comfort him in the very slightest, that the boy was not hideous, Lenalee had failed very badly.

"Che. Do you think I even give a damn?"

(_"That's alright, y'know. We all have things we can't do." _Lavi said, tuning the violin. "_I can't sing for my life- Panda jiji says that I'm completely and irrevocably tone-deaf."_)

"There's a reason so many people care about Allen, and not just as an exorcist."

"Che. Since he's sentimental enough to allow so many people to dictate how he acts."

"Not true. As much as he cares about everyone, he won't deviate from that unwritten code he's got tucked away, always at the forefront of his mind." Lenalee said. "People care for him because-"

("_At the very least you can play something._" Allen eyed the violin dubiously. "_I'd be afraid of breaking it- it looks so fragile!"_)

"-Because he's the so-called destroyer of time?" It always returned full circle in a meaningless path, back to that one unpleasant fact that they were all going to die because their prophesized savior was a more-or-less incompetent idiot.

"No." Lenalee chuckled. "It's because he's Allen Walker and he's a gentleman because that's who he is and not because he needs to be nice."

"Che…He's incompetent." Kanda tried again. "I fail to see how being nice could be pertinent."

("_How about something like a piano or organ?_" Lavi suggested. "_It's not as if you can carry or hold one of those. I don't think you'll break those easily, unless you tried to play it with your weapon invocated or somethin' like that…of course, why would you do that?"_)

"He keeps secrets and doesn't tell us because he feels that he needs to take on the responsibility. He holds grudges. He will eat the Order out of house and home." Lenalee said. "He's certainly not a perfect person. But I'm sure you can see some of his good points."

"…He looks and acts like a little girl?" Kanda said skeptically, with a snort of derision.

(_"An organ or piano? I simply could not."_ Allen confessed. _"I don't honestly believe I'll be able to pick out the notes with both hands without being distracted or completely focused on one of them."_)

"That's not a good thing in your book. Anyhow, just try to accept him." Lenalee said firmly and a little grimly, with something that sounded like a long-suffering sigh. She handed him the clothes that had been made up for him for the mission, and pointed in the direction of another room. "Scat, go change. Between the two of you, my poor elder brother is going to go bald and gray early in his life."

Kanda bit back a callous remark on how premature baldness and graying must run in the Li family, to avoid being smacked by that omnipresent clipboard that no doubt had accompanied Komui on his journey to Vienna.

("_There's a reason the rest of us start small, y'know, Beansprout-chan. One hand at first, both bass and treble, before you move on to putting the two together. Then it'd be really easy. And practice always helps- I had to practice for hours and hours until I was able to form one coherent note. Panda-jiji hated it."_)

He wasn't so shortsighted as to think that it was just about Komui and not so much Allen, and as much as he had been accused of being emotionally distant, he could recognize the hints of her little crush on the British exorcist.

…Or was it not?

In the obliterative, negligent agony of unrequited love, maybe Lenalee decided withhold the attentions that'd be best spent elsewhere than the oblivious Beansprout- she was a pretty girl, and he wasn't exactly sure how Lavi looked at her.

He had to be extraordinarily bored, to be so desperate as to involve himself in such sordid affairs, Kanda reflected as he pulled on the dress shirt and frock coat in the privacy of the room next door.

Lenalee had been like an elusive, subtle wraith in her attraction to Allen Walker; She had taken to only haunting where Allen was only when he had his guard lowered, and even then only when there was no onlookers to incriminate her later on of what Komui considered the crime of falling in love with someone who would take her away from her brother.

Needless to say, her methods were very...questionable if it consisted of lurking outside of said subject of admiration's room.

Of course Lenalee had possessed some psychotic tendencies in her earliest days as an exorcist, although Bookman had determined that they were more attributable to the coercive methods of the Black Order than to actual mental disorders of the medically correctable sort.

(Of course, Kanda had always been of the opinion that those in the Li family had remarkably poor judgment at times- Komui's flaw being his penchant for oversized mechanical contraptions, and Lenalee's in her poor taste in men.

And that comment on physical attractiveness on the part of the Beansprout was just one more example that Kanda was going to emphatically ignore.)

It was hard not to tune Lenalee out as she explained the useless minute details regarding the partner dance, such as its long and venerable history and places of origins. The lecture on the variations of waltzes, or rather the long winding explanations on how it all worked, was somewhat better- although the very clear and present lack of demonstration was something that he was more concerned about. There were certain types of music, certain beats to anticipate, certain rhythms….it all seemed quite frivolous.

In fact, Allen was yawning very much unlike the polite person that he usually was, having dropped the caged-animal look an hour earlier in favor of one of masked boredom. However, if one asked him to spontaneously regurgitate what he had learned from Lenalee's lecture- or even better, actually demonstrate it- no doubt he would be back to his frightened demeanor.

"…Allen?"

"Yes?"

"Are you listening?" Lenalee asked, looking exasperated as Kanda smirked.

"Yes, Ma'am." Allen replied dutifully. "I hear you loud and clear."

Kanda sighed.

"Whether you actually register it is something different altogether…That goes for you too, Kanda."

Music and countless forms be damned. It was the actual application of whatever bull Lenalee was trying to explain to deaf ears, that Kanda was actually concerned about.

"Well then, let's begin first without the music. Hand in hand- no, the other hand! That one goes on the girl's _waist._ The two of you really weren't paying attention, were you?"

Allen jumped and looked guilty, and if Kanda was even capable of the undignified and juvenile act of rolling one's eyes, he would have done so. He sneered as his bare hand came in contact with Allen's gloved left hand; The Beansprout was always so intent on covering up everything, even so large a flaw like that unsightly if useful parasitic weapon that leeched off his being.

As soon as their fingers grazed, an imperceptible flush crossed the British exorcist's face and he quickly withdrew, but not without a subtle hesitation lacing the action that immediately caught Kanda's sigh and caused him to heave an internal sigh. Considering just who the boy's master was, Kanda would have expected him to be not so wary as he was of physical contact.

"You're being useless, dimwit- like I said, we're both liable for failure, so get your fucking act together." He bent forward and snarled into the cluster of curls approximately where Allen's ear should be.

"I know." A small, flickering wry quirk of his red mouth. Allen inclined the shell of his ear away from Kanda, and the diamond earring in the lobe winked softly at him, catching the light. "I won't compromise anything no matter if-" He gave an indiscernible encompassing wave towards his garments."-I'm not wearing my exorcist cloak."

"Hmph. See that you do."

He reached down to grip his hand- strangely small and delicate under the glove, and strangely…_human_, when obscured by a patterned lace glove. The kid _was_ human, human as Kanda had never realized he was before in the rush of the rationality in avoiding such a cursed specimen, and that made the experience all that much newer and unfamiliar.

He could practically feel the embarrassment radiating off the British exorcist, and feel the heated flush through his skin. Kanda could feel Allen's fingers curling tentatively around his, into a loose hold that seemed only temporary and less gripping, as if he was anticipating it being suddenly let go of.

"Put your hand on her waist."

" Hn. 'Her?'" Kanda drawled, turning to Allen. "Che. I'm actually quite convinced that he's female by now..."

"So 'm I..." Allen mumbled under his breath, with a great roll of doe eyes that were immensely blue and immensely matter-of-fact. "You have it much easier- _you're_ not the one impersonating a dead girl."

"There's no point to the entire affair if you can't think of Allen as a woman." Lenalee said briskly. "Quite frankly, since Allen's supposed to be playing the part of a long lost daughter of the nobility, any slip-ups on his part would warrant unpleasant consequences. The nobility are cautious, even of their own, and what more suspicion could be cast on someone who just suddenly materializes out of the blue to lay a claim to the bloodline, and maybe even a share of estate that otherwise would have went to other relations-"

"-I beg your pardon, but I've never been informed about any potential legal repercussions or God-knows-what about imposting someone!" Allen yelped.

Kanda watched the slightest hint of something akin to anger, but still, pretty much unreadable, pass across Allen's newly feminine facial features- a softened, exquisite porcelain visage that was so much more expressive, as if his normal face was only but a mask.

He couldn't decide whether he hated it this way or not, inasmuch as it was pleasing to the eyes it reminded him to much of some painted marionette, some doll to be displayed proudly.

"My brother was going to give you some papers with information regarding that part of your disguise-"

Papers, Kanda noted. Not a personal briefing, not especially since Elena, whoever that poor unfortunate girl was, was still a matter of touchy contention with the Beansprout, especially since he had been grabbed and pronounced as someone's long-lost daughter just days ago. The subterfuge probably echoed a situation that Allen knew was impossible for him- to be reunited with a family he had never had the chance to know, and so to begrudge the Kingsley family that in Elena's stead-

"-any questions that you may have can be directed to him after you two finish learning the waltz. And the two of you just will have to work all the more harder with the deception, wouldn't you?"

Allen frowned, his hand tightening in an undoubtedly unconscious motion around Kanda's, before he suddenly realized what he was doing and let go, stepping away quickly with widened, discomfited eyes. "I apologize." he whispered, lowly and barely there.

"Che." Kanda had glimpsed enough within that one singular second, something that would have made all the difference in battle against any opponent whether it be akuma or human.

A most curious combination of expressions had been observed: shock, anger, and resignation. The first two were unusual, considering that it was the normally conforming Beansprout; however, it was the last that held his attention longer than it should have, namely because in all his time of knowing Allen Walker, the latter always had displayed an uncommon tenacity and willingness to comply with any stipulations in the line of duty. The only times when anything had surfaced that had him actually using his walnut-sized brain was when something deeply and truly disturbed him, on a deeply personal level.

"I suppose that we'd better present a unified, familiar front then in our appearance then." Allen was saying noncommittally, although he did direct a pointed look at Kanda. "If that requires you to think of me as a female all the time, by all means do so. We wouldn't be able to prepare better."

Kanda did not miss a second glance passing between him and Lenalee, either, signifying some sort of covert communication that he and Lavi were not to know of or comprehend. Lavi continued playing his violin, pads of his fingers skimming through various positions up and down the strings.

That time, that woman in the red who had called Allen her daughter, the one and same daughter that the beansprout was to impersonate- Had the appearance of such an unfounded spector called up something darker and more drastic than what Allen himself had mentioned about his past?

"This is harder than I thought." Allen remarked, one hand betraying his anxiety and coming up to spin out brunette curls with a finger. The human hand- manicured, pretty, buffed rounded nails separating strands from other strands, isolating an entire curl from the rest of the elaborate construction.

Allen's eyes were haunted, Kanda thought to himself.

And Allen _played_ with his fucking _hair_.

"...Just shut up and pay attention, sprout." Kanda muttered, watching the curl go round and round.

Every person out there was someone's child, and Allen Walker- devil spawn as he very might well be- was no exception and probably had been goaded into remembering that, or rather the lack of thereof when regarding a coherent past with a family (if a single man could be family) that he had lost.

And that sentimentality led to the presence of the woman, the little boy Edmund, to resound deeply.

Kanda caught the start of a flinch from Allen as he put his hand on his waist, something that was caught in mid-reaction and quickly suppressed. To his credit, there was little expression on Allen's face, and Kanda's gaze shifted over the blank, doll-like countenance to find nothing whatsoever. Whatever had occurred the little exchange Allen had with Lenalee, it had caused the former to withdraw into himself, as he was wont to do when confronted with emotional turmoil.

"Sorry- it's not as if I've ever done this before." Allen's hand shifted in his.

Kanda didn't want to waste breath on telling him to shut the hell up and stop apologizing for the stupidest thing.

"I suppose it's also the first time for you, too..."

"Can't you be quiet for all of five minutes?"

It almost disturbed Kanda that he was able to recognize those signs that Allen was upset, even more so when the brat was rather...feminine-looking at the moment, overly so and even comfortably so. But he, admittedly, had the fault of paying such an undeserving target so much attention when it could be spend on other, more useful pursuits like katas or endurance training. (Neither of which were particularly applicable at the moment.)

(_"Awkwaaarrd..."_ Lavi distinctly muttered, running one finger all the way down the E string to just above where the fingerboard ended, to create a ghostly sound.)

"...Put your hand a little more towards her-his-back." Lenalee recommended. "You're the leader, Kanda- that's partly what the hand's for, to guide in the dance."

"And for God's sake, don't look so miserable, the two of you!" Lavi exclaimed extravagantly, tucking his fiddle under his chin and plucking a jaunty little repose that apparently was supposed to relieve them of their melancholy. Kanda forced his hand away from mugen's hilt. "Young and in love..."

...In love?

Lenalee intercepted before he had a chance to draw blood, and unhelpfully had him remove his sword from its rightful place at his side and place it elsewhere under the pretense that 'one can't dance with a weapon clinking away,' as if Mugen wasn't firmly sheathed and holstered.

"When the gentleman steps forward, the lady steps backwards with the opposite foot so as to accommodate the movement of the step- so Kanda, you may begin with the left foot, and Allen the right..."

A worser match couldn't have been possibly made, Kanda reflected a few seconds later as they heard a rip and promptly discovered that Allen's step had been too small. ("_You_ try dancing in heels!" Allen had groused, tongue between teeth.) As a result Kanda had stepped too forward, in the process stepping on the hem of Allen's dress. Allen had wobbled precariously in the ridiculous shoes that he was wearing, backed away from Kanda, and ended up in a ungraceful, rumpled heap on the floor.

"Ow." He blinked owlishly at them. "Um, Lenalee? I don't think I'm doing this the proper way..."

"You're not, you silly ninny." Said exorcist moaned. "But you're only a beginner, so it's fine."

"Oh." Allen seemed morbidly fascinated with his dress, and plucked at it experimentally, wincing when it came apart. "I think I broke this, too."

Needless to say, regarding their ill fortune as of late, the pricey material of the dress had ripped and revealed the metallic structure of the hoop underneath, as well as the excessive underskirts.

"Allen, Allen, Allen, what are we going to do about you and the skirt malfunctions?" Lenalee wrung her hands.

The Beansprout gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I don't quite rightly know, but I'll merely have to get accustomed to moving around in one and not breaking anything. It's the one meter radius in every direction that I'm somewhat awkward with- I tend to forget that it's not just me moving around, but I'd have to worry about getting the width of the skirt of the dress around too. So every motion that I make is two times exaggerated..."

Kanda swore and hoped to heaven that the Beansprout managed to familiarize himself with the convoluted mechanics of hoop dresses _soon_.

"Be a _dear_ and help your poor sweetheart up, Yuu-chan." Lavi evidently saw fit to also add his unwanted suggestions. "You're not being a gentleman."

Kanda uttered several more blasphemies, despite Lenalee's protests that they were in a cathedral, and a venerable one at that, and endeavored to haul his dance partner to his feet despite much protests. Allen was a lightweight by all standards, and the dress certainly gave him a little more substance than what Kanda had remembered from when the kid had passed out and he had carried him.

"I believe that I'm acting the part of a lady, not an invalid- and am perfectly...capable of being able to stand up." The unusually arch tone was all that betrayed Allen's obvious discomfort- that and the self-conscious flush that had crept up unnoticed onto the exorcist's cheeks.

The embarrassment was something that even the Destroyer of time was unable to ignore even with his own very blatant conviction.

"Although there isn't any distinction made between the two." Kanda commented.

But as always, there lurked a further shadow of near_ impropriety_, the ease with with Allen Walker inhabited the disguise but yet wore it awkwardly- if almost on purpose. It wasn't overly exaggerated, since asking a boy to dress as a girl would be something that would give cause to make a ruckus about.

It was rather the unusual tenacity Allen had in seeking to 'master' his masquerade perfectly. Granted, the brat was extremely enthusiastic as long as it involved helping the more incompetent who needed his help. His willingness did not go unnoticed by Kanda, but there was something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, and if he had been a person to give much stock to speculation, he would have deemed it _sinister_.

But what seemed to be strange was that the Beansprout appeared to be holding back, and there was always a faint undercurrent of- if Kanda didn't know better, he would have called it 'fear.'

Fear. Unadulterated fear, secretive and _always_ on guard.

Which was preposterous. Because Allen Walker didn't possess the ability or the will to fear, and moreover Kanda doubted his mental capacity in determining the logic of situations that certainly warranted it.

"Hmph. Try standing in those sad excuses for footwear, then, if you don't need my aid." Kanda retorted darkly to Allen's protests at his help. "Even if your dedication doesn't go so far as playing such an appealing role, don't agree to doing it in the first place!"

Lavi's idle plucking of the strings went silent. Allen's eyes widened slightly, and to Kanda's irate satisfaction he could detect a minuscule amount of badly-concealed hurt that suddenly leaked into the blue pupils.

"I did not mean it like that, in any way." The British exorcist said little to defend himself in his usual passive-aggressive manner of dealing with criticism, merely making his statement by settling into a ready position. "Well, then- shut up and lead me."

"Right," Lavi said, dispelling the anxiety with an inappropriate tune more suited to a country square dance rather than a formal ball. " You have to learn the waltz."

The set of Allen's jaw was determined, and to his credit he was able to repress the shudder that Kanda could see, no, not just see but also feel, run through his slim frame.

"The two of you can work on dancing a little closer later on in the fashion of more intimate couples, but for now just focus on keeping the stance like that- clasped hands at or above shoulder height since this is English, and not American waltz."

"Um, Lenalee...Closer?" The Beansprout hissed.

"Obviously. The two of you have a cover as a marri-"

"...Never mind, I don't quite want to know."

Kanda had concluded that despite his overbearing concerns with other people, the Beansprout rarely allowed anyone else lay a finger on himself with the exemption of Timcanpi, which was a golem that was more taken to biting than anything else. This was supported by the frustrated, frightened and nearly manic way the Beansprout had been rather adamant on not showing anyone his injuries, especially with that incredible protective reflex- trained, perhaps, or bred from desperation- when Kanda had previously pulled up just the lowest portion of his shirt to reveal his bruised stomach. (Also notable was Timcanpi's guard-dog-like demeanor when its master's ward was unconscious on the train- any time Lavi and Kanda had gotten near Allen, it would snap at them.)

Such an immense reaction that was so easily provoked by the slightest threat- because that was how the gesture had carried across, Kanda knew- to his flesh.

"Can you please avoid stepping on my dress?" The Beansprout hissed at him.

"Don't look at the floor- look at each other." Lenalee warned.

"Then how the hell am I supposed to coordinate my feet with him?" Kanda snarled.

One would have expected someone like the reputedly most kind-hearted exorcist in the order to enjoy fostering a more intimate, amiable connection of human contact with others. However, it was as if all attachments abruptly came to a halt for him and never progressed anywhere or would be shrugged off.

"You just do it." Lavi suggested.

Allen sighed and squirmed as Kanda adjusted his hand on his waist.

It was as if Allen was painfully and reflexively suspicious of human touch to the extent that he actively avoided it unless it were absolutely imperative or if not on his own behalf. The lattermost brought to mind how he had embraced Lavi and held him as the redhead cried, after that massacre on the Viennan train station.

Anything within the vicinity of his person was not to be approached- that was no doubt a vulnerability that could be exploited elsewhere. If an enemy invaded that personal bubble of seclusion that Allen kept around him, Kanda couldn't possibly imagine the consequences due to his lack of understanding of the younger exorcist, other than the fact they would be unpleasant and more likely than not at the expense of said exorcist.

"Allen- left, not right. Step in accordance to him. And Kanda- don't maneuver towards the wall. You're going to crash. Circular. Around the room."

Kanda obligingly navigated them in a different direction.

He could see the fear even better now, now when he can feel the rub of velvet under his hand and the puckering lines where it was drawn back, to fit hips that were slimmer and oscillated into an hourglass shape by artificial means. Padding, it had been said. Padding and a really good whalebone corset.

"There's going to be other dancers, so you'll have to watch out."

They could have fit a person in between them, so reluctant were they both to brave and surpass the distance between two more-or-less antagonistic colleagues and cross over into closer, more cooperative territory.

Nope. They danced so that they just _barely_ touched, only allowing the smallest of contact and quickly removing themselves from anything that would have looked from an uninformed outsider's point of view to be a more daring move, something bred from familiarity- if not intimacy.

The kid had squirmed under his touch. Had fidgeted and shifted uneasily, slim form practically vibrating with tension under that burgundy velvet dress. He couldn't even allow himself the slightest smidgen of spiteful satisfaction in knowing that the twerp was just as uncomfortable as he was, as neither of them were so inclined towards their own gender. The younger exorcist kept the….artificial female appendages that disturbed the flat plane of his chest as far away from him as possible, thankfully.

--

Kanda was surprisingly good at the waltz, although it was probably attributed to his perpetual practicing of forms of a series of set movements like katas.

Regular, monotonous series of motions like that probably conditioned his body well.

Nevertheless, it only made Allen feel more frustrated, calling up unbidden feelings of inadequacy which did nothing to appease her anxiety, and, as a culmination, distracted her to no end.

Lord in Heaven, it was as if everything hovered on a knife's thin blade.

Or rather, less metaphorically, the edge of her own expanding awareness, that ever present consciousness that lay just under the borders of mind.

She literally trembled in Kanda's proximity, apprehensive that he might discover her secret. That yes, contrary to popular belief, she was female. _A girl disguised as a boy disguised as a girl. _

Fuck. What had she gotten herself into? Had Allen been inclined to rough language, she would have sworn like the uncouth sailors that she had once befriended while working on a schooner to repay her master's debt.

Her face was...real, for lack of a better word. They had forgone the clods and clods of pigments and powder that she normally used to make her face more defined and masculine. When all that had been removed, to her bare face kohl and rouge had been applied- that was a good touch, but the fact remained that it all still looked pretty darn much au naturale.

_"Just don't let him look too closely." Lenalee had advised, uselessly. "Kanda Yuu knows next to nothing about cosmetics, that much I can assure you. And since you're going out with your face more or less bare now, you can just say that you're getting in character for your undercover disguise."_

Her cleavage did not look fake enough, despite the fact that that wasn't really the point as Miranda had helpfully attested to an hour earlier. Granted, there wasn't that absolutely obscene little airspace between her breasts peeking out from the décolletage, but it appeared nearly revoltingly full and much heavier and obstructive than she'd ever thought they be.

They were heavier too. And they jiggled like a plate of pudding. '_Food_ comparisons, Allen?' Lenalee had asked in disbelief when the British exorcist had enlightened her on just what she thought about cumbersome feminine attributes in general. 'Parasitic types.'

_"I made sure nothing would show." Miranda had said, holding up her sketches for deviations from the fashionable dress patterns. "And pockets. Mustn't forget the pockets."_

Her hips were, once again, too realistic. It was bone, not padding. And if he moved his hand the wrong way he might just find out and no boy existed who had a distinct hourglass shape-

-Kanda's hand was at her waist, wrapping just under the lower portion of her ribcage and creating a self-conscious, frustrated blush to infuse Allen's face with heat as she looked down at her feet despite Lenalee's warnings not to do so.

"One, two, _three_; One, two, _three_." The pretty Chinese exorcist said over the strains of the music, tapping out each and stressing every emphasized syllable with a thump on the floor.

So Allen listened to the beat, taking particular attention to the inflections in Lenalee's clear voice as she measured out their beat in the air with her swallow hands, and pronounced their steps. Lavi's music was the silken, slow ballad of a warm moon, serenity incarnate in a violin with just the appropriate touch of an understated passion that never really crescendoed but rather lingered long after the notes stopped.

And that was when Allen tripped for the third time.

"..." Kanda looked down his nose at her, already reaching forward to grasp her hand.

"I don't need help." Allen snatched her hand away.

"Yes, you do. I'd like to at least be able to sleep better tonight knowing that you won't make an ass of yourself in Britain." Lavi said.

With all necessary having been said to Kanda just minutes before Lenalee had deemed it fit to begin them on their dancing education, it was ironic that Allen should find _herself_ the hesitant, uncooperative one.

But on the dance floor, in a dress, she found herself afraid of who and what she was- not as an exorcist, but as a woman simply because the contrast of what she was pretending to be and what she truly was had been thrown into contrast.

And then there was that irrepressible intimacy of being so close to another person- something that she could not afford either physically or emotionally (although there was no chance in hell of that happening).

One, two, _three_-"

If Kanda had noticed anything, he kept most wisecracks and snide comments to himself, for which she was thankful. The more likely explanation lay not in sympathy, but rather the fact that he wasn't quite concerned, really. And for that, Allen was thankful as well, almost, although she wasn't quite sure on just how she had descended to a point in her life when she would actually have the maturity in her life to accept things as they were and actively manipulate them to her usage- which, when taken from context, she wasn't really sure that she liked the person that she was becoming at all. No, not if she could actually find it in her sickened heart to actually be _relieved _that he would expect nothing from her, even as much as she figured that he would otherwise still never do so.

That was selfish. That made her feel lower than dirt.

It was rational and would spare heartache as such trivial matters like ties and loyalties, according to her esteemed womanizer of a master, were superfluous.

Left unsaid was, 'for one who lives to kill, and then to die- because one is the destroyer of time.'

Yes, Allen could never forget that hand that moved of its own accord to slaughter her father, the same that had wielded dark matter like an akuma- was it really so much to blame her for, that she flinched away when Kanda had brushed his hand against that same tainted hand?

And he had told her: "You're being useless, dimwit- like I said, we're both liable for failure, so get your fucking act together."

Allen had reiterated the bland promise never to compromise the mission, and from there things had went downhill in a way that she had expected.

"Allen, you're completely and irrevocably amusical, am I right?" Lavi asked, putting down his violin.

"I've never had the opportunity to try my hand at music, but I daresay that it's be safe to assume that I am." Some things, like her nonsensical little songs that she sung with Mana, were best left unmentioned. "Why?"

Lenalee winced. "Because...Lavi?"

Lavi scratched the back of his head awkwardly, his hesitation easily visible. "Uh- it's because you're rather...well...you lack rhythm. Or, more specifically, you miss beats by a tiny fraction of a second."

"Oh." Was all Allen said. "I know about beats and everything- just not very good at it. Is that it?"

"Yes." Given the politely scandalized look that Lenalee was holding back, Allen concluded that it was an idiotic thing to assume.

"Dance is based off...matching, for lack of a better word, to the rhythm of the music. In which case, you'd probably be wholly dependent on Kanda to lead in a dance- which he's supposed to do anyway, but your lack of rhythm will just make matters somewhat more difficult. And the two of you have horrible chemistry-"

"'Horrible chemistry?'"

"Che."

"Potassium plus water equals an explosive mixture." Allen muttered, steadfastly paying no heed to the twinge in her heart that accompanied that revelation, and simultaneously the memory of how she had learned that lesson.

Glass shards, father, she thought. Glass.

"It's just a term for bad teamwork. Well, the two of you do not get along well, and that reflects in your dancing." Lavi explained. "Simply because neither of you are able to relieve yourselves of your previous attitudes and judgments about each other to engage in something like this that involves teamwork, especially since it needs to be incorporated with music and the movements of other pairs of dancers in a ballroom. The two of you need- really need to know how to get used to the nuances of the identities of your undercover disguises, or at the very least try to operate under the pretense of. With dance, you can tell everything since it is interaction between two people and peoples' bodies don't lie; It's a single, seamless flow, and not composed of many choppy movements strung together in any given combination. You would need to be able to just focus on the here and now, the _moment_ and the dance- and both of you are doing anything but that."

"That's...fascinating."

Somehow, despite her great respect for Bookmen apprentices and their valuable expanse of knowledge and the breathless applications of...Allen was not quite so convinced that a dance was anything more than a dance.

Much less some indicator of character dynamics even when body language was taken in account.

"A cigar is just a cigar." Kanda pointed out, in an annoyed snarl.

"...And a cigar is not a dance, Yuu-chan."

The consciousness of a body could be quelled by conditioning; instinctive reactions contrary to popular belief could be overridden with frequent correction; habits could be trained not to surface through the isolation of and discouraging of.

But she could never be accustomed to thinking like a boy when it was always present in her identity and her body and her mind- even be it a tiny little mote of remembering the distinctions- the innate evidence that she was a girl.

"Teamwork." Kanda said flatly, countenance fully displaying his displeasure.

"Sa' right, Yuu-chan. Teamwork."

"Perhaps, the two of us have two sets of left feet." Kanda muttered. "I'd like to see you psychoanalyze that."

It was as close to a joke that Allen had ever heard Kanda crack, even if it wasn't exactly nice-spirited.

"I refuse to be 'wholly dependent' on him." She forced herself to say austerely. "Much of our teamwork depends on being able to function as _individuals_ on the mission, with neither of us compromising the other."

"That's all very well," Lenalee noted gently. "but much of it is relying on how the two of you function together. Think of it as your collusion and confederates."

"But I can cheat on my own-"

"Not against Tyki Mick in his black form, and many other shrewd gamblers with systems of their own. Do you two not realize the situation that you two are in?"

Che- Kanda gave his usual monotone response, signifying or promising nothing, inasmuch as she knew that she in this matter was far more to blame than he.

They did know all too well, Allen thought with all the indignation that she felt was unwarranted, but under the pressure of her frustration that feeling had reached the point where it actually hurt.

With much trepidation, she pleaded fatigue and general consensus was that everyone call it a day and continue on at a more opportune time.

And so Allen found herself wandering among the various sacrosanct chapels, with not so much the beatific manner of a passing cloud but rather the malcontent silence of the wake of a storm that had expired. As always, given her lack of directional sense, she chose to wander not because she was curious, but rather that she was lost.

Her thoughts ghosted here and there, but neither of either, lingering mostly on her apprehension of the mission she wasn't so sure she could take.

She was intent on ignoring the personal and emotional connection she had to such a case, especially stirred up and renewed by the appearance of a child who had the same crystalline color of eye that stared back (alternatively bright or dark, pensive or enthused) in the mirror every day she looked to reapply her makeup...

She paused, and looked harder at the many shadows that clung to the walls where light couldn't possibly shine given the placing of the torches.

-That was most definitely a streak of gold, a sliver of the sun that had transgressed on the otherwise obscured, darkened atmosphere of official order business.

Allen cocked her head, lifting an eyebrow. "..Edmund?"

Tiedeur had most likely gotten deeply engaged in some sort of inspirational interaction with the beauty of the cathedral, and was happily painting away at a canvas instead of taking care of this poor little boy.

Despite herself, Allen found herself smiling like a fool, forgetting her previous concerns (like finding her way back through the large church) to give chase, and catching herself in time to giver herself a much-deserved mental wallop for letting herself get distracted. Even the reason that nobody other than Cross was acquainted with the blood connection between her and Edmund did not excuse the fact that personal affairs had once more intruded upon her resolve.

The child's grin was visible and obviously pleased even in the relative dimness of the ducal crypt- which was, ironically, an ideal place for a healthy curious child to want to explore. It was only then that Allen realized that Edmund had never seen her in female attire, and could possibly be unable to recognize her. With utmost care, the exorcist gathered as much of the fullness of the skirt as possible in her hands, and made her way along the aisles of tombs.

Ornate, bronze containers and sarcophagi - each housing the last remnants of a person of great significance and reputation, a true home for the great deceased. She recognised the chamber of being one right under the chancel, designated for an entire line of Austrian royalty. The name eluded her at the moment with the faintest impression that it began with a H, but Lavi would enlighten her later on it. Allen could only offer her regards and respect as her offering to the predecessors of the Order she knew so little of, as well as her promise to save their flock from the devices of the Millenium Earl.

"...Edmund?" She forced a smile onto her face, pleasantly stepping forward and extending her hand to him, deciding to introduce herself first before he got confused. "I don't know if you remember me, but I'm-"

"You're Allen." The boy said with conviction, and she smiled to hear that soft-palated lisp that was so present in the very young. "Kanda tol' me to come and botha you instead."

_To bother her?_

She repressed a knowing huff in regard to Kanda's expressed dislike for little children, and would only he would have to audacity and lack of heart to want to wish the responsibility of a child upon another as a sort of _curse_- as if he himself had not realized that he too once was young, and that children were the purest gifts God had ever bestowed upon the earth.

"Well, this is no place for a child to play, and you might want to-"

Allen stopped speaking, appalled at herself.

She would _never_ want to patronize even a child-especially a child-because as much as she would provide guidance in some way to someone younger and more impressionable, she didn't feel as if she even possessed that right to even pretend that she had the best intentions for someone else. Once when she was young at heart and impressionable, she had made a mistake that cost her. If she hadn't unintentionally amended it, much more would have been paid in both blood and her own guilt.

"Never mind that- do you want to come with me elsewhere? It's rather dark in here." Allen gently suggested.

The suggestion was received with all the enthusiasm of childish caprice, as evidently Edmund had lost interest in the catacombs and had little idea of the significance of the place, how honored one should be to

"Are you scared of ghosts?" Edmund piped confidentially, as he slipped his play-dirty hand into hers with all the ease of one accustomed to being doted on. He was loved, loved as she wasn't, by the same family. Ironic how it was, how different their circumstances had been, and still even more that he would be the one to suffer more than her if anything happened to them.

And she? The Kingsleys were ghosts of the past, to her.

"Ghosts?" Allen said softly, morbidly amused.

How fitting, and yet so ironic, that this child speak of ghosts to her- one who would always be shadowed by the ones that populated her past, and who was unforgiven by the many she could not save, and then the ones that she could she did by killing.

Was this poor unfortunate child, the blood brother she denied, haunted by his mother who he saw getting cut down right in front of her? And, although it was of somewhat lesser impact at the moment, would he ever forgive her for being there and still being unable to intercept the blow?

"I know about ghosts." She told him quietly. "I know of more ghosts than I know of people."

"But are you _scared_?" Edmund pressed eagerly.

"Am I scared?" She said, miming thinking his words over carefully, with an exaggerated upwards roll of her eyes. "...No."

"Why? They're creepy and invisible and blood-sucking an'...an'..."

"Blood-sucking? Vampires do that, not ghosts." She briefly speculated on just how he had acquired his preconceived notions of the supernatural, and concluded that he must have taken his knowledge from bits and pieces of odd tales a mystic would say; The elite class that he hailed from were fond of the otherworldly and that which was not understood, and leisure allowed them to entertain themselves with false recreations, or on occasion the real thing.

"They're the same. Spooky." Edmund maintained.

"I know a vampire." Allen said. "He's a nice one, and he's an exorcist."

"Like you?"

"Like me."

"But don't exorcists get rid of ghosts? So how could a vampire be both a ghost and an exorcist?"

Allen resolved to introduce her little brother to Crowley, sometime.

Edmund pouted. "I still think ghosts are bad."

"Are you scared?" Allen teased gently.

"_No!_ I'm a _man_, I'm not scared of creepy-crawlies."

Edmund did scuttle away from the wall where spiders crawled, Allen observed.

But she only said, "Ghosts can also be guardians, too. They haunt this tomb, where their earthly forms lie." _They, spectors of my deepest fears that represent my incompetence, they guard my resolve. _

_"_What about th' big uns? At the train-you had that hwugemongous arm...w-wit that 'ight."

That light, that unusual light that had felt _nothing_ like the warmth of innocence; That dark stuff with the consistency of something intangible and ambiguous. It was dark matter, and that in itself brought to mind a wide range of speculations, the worst culminating in the progression of the curse. That recollection, spoken so easily, brought back feverish chills to run up and down her stiff spine.

"You needn't worry about that now." _Not yet, not ever hopefully. _

And the child had asked questions of something not to be touched yet by her in conversation with anyone yet, and phrased so innocently as well! And yet, that seeming nonchalance with which Edmund had elevated the topic to discussion, in that unbroken serenity.

All was right with juvenile games appropriate for his age level, but to the best of her experience the boy's mother's death must be addressed, preferably by the right people with the right judgments. There were plenty few of those in stock, although she wouldn't begrudge Komui his discretions, noble as they tended to be.

It was just concern that Allen would have given anyone, whether or not they were blood-related.

"_I_ think you're scared." The child told her.

Edmund puffed his little chest out, such a little boy-terror already in his innocent confidence. He was too young to warn about the consequences of arrogance, and life could always be trusted to bring any preconceptions of youth crashing down, Allen reflected. So she could trust him to grow without her influence or interference, inasmuch as she would always unreasonably worry...over a little brother who was not hers. And damn bloodlines, would probably never be hers to be elder sister to.

"Oh, is that so, little man?" Was all she said.

She had denied being that girl, that abandoned girl. And so she had refused his bloodline in that same gesture, stubbornly attempting to gain closure by forsaking all attachments to whatever potential kin existed out there and becoming Mana Walker's child.

"It's all righ'." Edmund said, almost conspiratorially. His bouncing step practically vibrated with a glittering self-importance, high-strung energy that somehow had escaped the brutal corrective treatment from a tutor or whatever master of academics nobility normally called on to instruct their children. "It's all right to be scared if you're a _girl_."

Allen nearly jerked with surprise, deciding then and there on the spot that the child needed not to spend any more time with Kanda Yuu.

As it was, there was no need for him to learn even more misogynistic tendencies than what had already been imparted to him from observances of noble British society.

"_I'll_ protect you." Edmund told her, sweetly.

His eyes were so guileless- she admired that naivety, thinking that she could actually remember a time when she might had looked like that. It was so easy to juxtapose the two of them, with their eyes so alike in color and form.

"So you think I'm a girl?"

"Mm. Yes. And no! I don't know whether to call you missus or mister."

He was obviously delighted with his cheek, and how a single answer refuted the other one. Contradictions were amusing, and he wasn't confused. Allen relaxed a little.

"Missus, for now, then." She replied, having had the foresight to consider the fact that no doubt he would accompany she and Kanda to London so as to be reunited with his kin, and thusly having him be privy to the subterfuge wouldn't be the best of ideas. _For you I would be both elder brother and sister. _

"You were wearing twousers when I met you, though..."

_Now _she had truly confused him, and she cursed her circular leading.

"I'm just...different." Let it not be known that it was the understatement of the century.

"Oh."

As Allen searched for a way back into the rooms that had been reserved for the exorcists' own use, Edmund chattered in his random prattle, being unable to hold much of a linear conversation before it was interrupted by things more interesting. It was just as well that his legs were shorter and as a result covered less distance. To accommodate the swaying, pinch-heeled limitations of her not-so-sturdy shoes, she was forced to take smaller, daintier steps- which was reasonably the desired result, as she could practically feel her hips swaying for balance.

"Can we go outside? Pweeease?" Edmund suddenly begged, turning a theatrically pleading gaze upon her that was intended to coerce her into agreeing upon pain of death by cuteness. "I wanna go outside."

She groaned inwardly at the look, and decided that not being his elder sister made up for never being on the receiving end of such...devious methods.

"It's boooorriiing heere..." He wheedled. The corridors were lit sparsely, in the practical fashion suited for large estates like the cathedral. The somber, oppressing atmosphere had only been enhanced by it having been turned into a temporary emergency center for medical attention after the train station had been decimated, slowing trade and communications nearly entirely down to s slug's pace.

"It is a crisp day, so not unless you have a coat." Allen compromised, full well feeling the strain of being cooped within, even if she was unconscious in a feverish state most of the time. "And even then, only in the courtyards. We can't stray outside the cathedral yet."

The Stephansdom would not be free of such a stifling miasma until the aftermath of the akumas' massacre had been dealt with by the generals, whom were more adept at public relations and peacemaking endeavors between the Black Order and the common populace enraged at what they considered a failure of exorcists.

"...Why were people outside?"

Allen smiled, at the child asking adult questions that demanded a simplified answer that did not remove all subtleties and accordingly, all significance. "They were mad."

"Oh." The child frowned. "I don't wanna them be mad. They're mean. Why are they mad?"

"They think we didn't protect them well enough, and they had thought that we would."

"So why didn't you?"

Again- why. That took the breath out of her well-intended explanations and her reluctance to breach such a subject.

"Hmph, stop asking so many questions and get out and grab your coat already."

Edmund obligingly got out to grab his coat.

Allen, startled and wide-eyed, turned her head slightly to glimpse Kanda out of her peripheral vision before her expression settled into a blank slate once more.

"I suppose you thought it a good pun to send the boy to find me. What if he got lost?"

"Che, I thought you could use the company. And only you could get lost here."

She completely disregarded what she thought might have passed as a sign of kindness or playfulness in others, and instead glared at him. "Shouldn't he be with Komui? Or someone who could help him cope with seeing his mother cut down by an akuma, right in front of his very eyes? You know what happens to the sorrowful."

"He looks-"

"Fine, yes, but it's all within." Allen waved aside his words. "We can't let him suffer alone, all because we could never visibly detect any signs of trauma." _Just like nobody ever did for me. _

"...And you could, because...?"

Allen sucked in a swift breath, at what she thought he had meant. Kanda's eyes narrowed, as he honed in on the slightest hesitation and because of that, acknowledgment, akin to a predator swooping in to make an end of the hunt for the prey.

"You of all people should know. That is why I sent him to you." Kanda maintained, tone hardening and features setting into harsh lines of displeasure. "You know all about grief, and the Millennium Earl's offer."

The blood rushed angrily to her face at the quiet barb. "So you taunt me with him?"

He couldn't see, she thought desperately. His view of her was obscured by his innate prejudice of her, and he wasn't able to recognize that she was trying to rectify that mistake. But Edmund should not have to bear that prejudice as well- it should not be incriminating. Just as the potential existed in the orphan, it existed in the beggar and the king and the merchant and the debutante and the choir boy and the barkeep and the swordsman...

"You do realise that anyone but you can create an akuma?"

"Che. Why would I want to?"

"The capability of making an akuma, not the action, Kanda. If you're able to do so, that means you care for someone."

Every single one of them had the potential to create an akuma, if they had a single shred of humanity within themselves capable of hurting for others.

She must have been severely impaired by the heat from her fever as of previous hours, to have even _thought_ of the possibility of Kanda being someone that she could _trust. _

"Che, you flatter yourself too much."

"Yes. And you give me too much credit." Allen gave a small, two-shouldered shrug, feeling the seams in the tight sleeves of her dress protest and flex against her skin. "But remember that I am not at all familiar with the support system for grief that the Order provides now, to prevent people from making akuma. In fact, I wasn't even aware that the millennium earl existed, when I was little."

"But he answered your call. And he will do it again for others." Kanda said, and Allen squirmed to hear him sound so practical and mechanically indifferent. "This pathetic orphan is no different."

"Are you implying that he must be eliminated if there is a possibility that he will so much as intend to call his mother back from the grave?"

"Did you not suggest that something be done about him and his grief?" Kanda's gaze drew a bead on her, causing her to think of minutes and the many irreversible and contradictory nature of indecision and revision. Allen swallowed her offense, unwilling to let Kanda extort another reason to distrust and dislike her.

"It is as good a suggestion as any."

"One more word, and I will punch your stomach right out of your back." She promised wearily, although her threat had very little intent.

"Hmph. You are getting too attached to the brat, if you are so quick to jump to such conclusions."

The answer he left sounded deliberately vague, and intended to provoke with allegations. Now that in itself was puzzling at best, and worrisome at worst, considering that any conversation she had with him normally deteriorated into spats that left her drained, exhausted, and liable to quietly, spontaneously combust within the privacy of her own thoughts.

Allen didn't think that she could bear any more self-incrimination as of then. She was too exhausted to give it any more than a passing thought.

"You cannot stop people from crying. They need to grieve."She informed him, leaning against the wall and discreetly shifting her weight from one foot to another to alternately take the soreness of the balls of her feet from wearing the shoes.

"Would the Earl merely come a little later?" he scoffed.

"The Earl will not come if they are able to come to terms with their sorrow, and life as it is."

"You did _not,_ Beansprout. Don't think you know it all."

"Like I said, you give me too much credit. And I was a _child. _And please- don't retort to that. You're going to say that I'm still a child."

Kanda was too self-sufficient (were it actually considered a bad thing) and self-absorbed in both his strength and weakness, and she had entertained that as the only quality that she could stomach in him- even if it were a selfish consideration on her own part, based off her own attempts to avoid closeness. Ironic how she managed to nearly court it at every single given opportunity, as if it were inbred in her nature as opposed to nurturing.

"Why are you so prejudiced towards me?" She demanded, not caring if she sounded unfair or not. "I offend your senses, obviously. I know, just like you know, that I can't possibly claim to be normal in any sense of the word."

"Dropping all pretense of being comrades in arms, I'd say what is most annoying about you is that you're stupid."

"I'm certainly not the brightest of bulbs in the lot, but I'd say that I think and speak coherently enough."

"You're stupid in your assumptions and your ostentations."

"I'm..._arrogant_?" The accusation of the pot calling the kettle black that had nearly followed was something that she bit back.

"You're singularly uncooperative, aren't you?" Kanda paused, and then amended that. "Hmph. Or rather overly difficult to work with because you're..."

"...How is being 'naive' making me uncooperative in any sense of the word?" Allen questioned, correctly guessing and following up on what he was going to say.

Of course, she wasn't going to inform him that he wasn't the first person in the past twenty-four hours to voice that particular dislike of that trait.

"You jump too fast to conclusions, idiot." He barked at her.

Allen concluded that he had cryptically meant that she was too defensive and touchy.

"I didn't think that we had anything more to say to one another than what we already said. You've made your point clear- you don't trust me. You don't want me as a partner. You clearly believe that I am somehow going to flub everything up. And quite frankly speaking, I'm not even sure at all we can interact civilly without being brainwashed first into it."

It was frustrating, to admit the lattermost part aloud for the first time, and to his face at that.

It wasn't so much actually telling it to him as it was to actually hear herself say it like that, so that she actually had to acknowledge it herself: that she honestly couldn't get along with him despite her very best efforts, which were for the most part pretty damned futile.

In the silence afterwards, she tried to focus as much as possible on how her heels nipped and bit at and unsteadied her feet.

"You don't trust me."

"I thought I said that a while ago, or are we repeating ourselves here?" Discreetly, the British exorcist toed at the floor.

_And then she realised: it had been that way all along, and they were merely rehashing something that had never progressed first glance and mutual dislike, and that in a sense they were reliving the same battles and indignations and spats over and over and over again. _

"I don't trust you. And you don't trust me...but it doesn't have to be like that." Allen whispered softly. "It doesn't have to be. I don't know why it is."

Drop dead silence, her little brother hadn't returned yet with his coat, she was feeling embarrassed, and Kanda's stony eyes were looking very intimidating indeed. And of course, she was facing death by fashion.

"And that is your own business."

"No. No. We both want to do well, don't we. It's our duty. It doesn't have to be a hateful thing to accomplish."

And last but not least, all her cards were-can she say stupidly?-revealed and on the table for him to see. (Which was something that she hoped that she'd impressed on him during their crash course on cards never to do in a game unless there was a reason.)

At last Kanda spoke. "You think that it doesn't have to be like that."

_That_ tone was unreadable, much like the rest of him was except for the most minuscule details in his expression that she knew she missed because she simply wasn't paying enough attention to him as a person instead of some sort of antagonist.

"Yes." Allen sighed. And then, more resignedly. "But you obviously have made yourself clear that you don't care what I think. Not that I'm encouraging you to do that- it's not good for the mission."

Perhaps she'd better start impressing upon him that it wasn't _the_ mission- there lay the mistake- but rather_ their_ mission, as competent if not friendly colleagues.

"And jumping straight into the fray of things when emotionally riled is good for the mission, according to you."

He just had to bring that up- unforgivable red, unforgivable blonde hair. Heaven, not that acerbic way of speaking again- familiar and no doubt ready to rip her arguments apart.

"Sometimes I can be...rash." Innerly seething, despite thinking that she could try to be self-critical like that, though she had been often complained about by others just for wallowing in said activity.

"..."

"But I honestly don't see why we can't be civil."

"Again with that foppishness. Civility is overrated. As is _friendship_." He spat the word out, as if it were akin to something foul.

"You say that about everything. Insignificant as you find connections to be...you know, forget I said anything."

"-You idiot."

"...Same to you."An automatic return, and she knew that was pretty childish.

"You want everything in _words _between us? As if they actually mean something?" The Japanese exorcist was shaking his head now. "They don't."

In fact, this was an unusually long conversation she was having with him, and for once that was actually the matter to deliberate over right now.

So that was what she had been doing wrong!

Allen's eyes would have comically widened in surprise if she weren't so preoccupied with keeping up appearances in front of him. One simply did not _talk_ to Kanda Yuu. One _acted_. And that was it. Since he wasn't a man of many words and no doubt that in extension meant that he had very little patience for them.

So she didn't think, and instead stuck out her right hand. "Truce, then?" she offered.

Kanda eyed her as if she had suddenly mutated into Tyki Mick, or something just as unpleasant and bizarre.

"...A handshake? You're pathetic."

"How so? Excellent practice for English high society."

As her brother came rushing back, with his entreaty to make good on her duty and take him outside and a very welcome excuse for her to end the conversation, she would have sworn that he _laughed _through his nose at her.

She nearly giggled, like a girl, at that, and ran to catch up with the excited Edmund. The floor slipped beneath her shoes, and she grimaced as she lost her balance.

"Those shoes are made for no purpose whatsoever." Kanda groused, but she allowed him to help her to her feet.

One step forward. How many more could they take before they left for England? At the moment, neither knew that they would have very little time before that occurred.


End file.
